


Beyond The Sea

by DarkmoonSigel



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst and Humor, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Naga, Sharkman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-08 02:23:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkmoonSigel/pseuds/DarkmoonSigel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fantasy/Human AU about Matthew Williams(Canada) as a lonely lighthouse keeper who meets an equally lonely Shark man who goes by the name of Gilbert(Prussia). This is the story of their misadventures.</p>
<p>Some eventual USUK with ex military Alfred F. Jones and naga Arthur(England).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> NO BETA. GRAMMAR NAZIS, THIS IS YOUR WARNING. READ AT OWN RISK AND DON'T BOTHER ME ABOUT IT.
> 
> First published on Deviant Art and Fanfiction.com, and now here. To fully appreciate this story though, go check out maplevogel on Tumblr for all the art that this story is based off of. Seriously go. Be amazed.

APH PruCan Beyond The Sea 1

Somewhere beyond the sea  
somewhere waiting for me  
my lover stands on golden sands  
and watches the ships that go sailin'.

-Bobby Darin 'Beyond The Sea'

'PLOP'

'SPLASH'

Matthew watched as another one of his bottles hit the ocean, thrown into the churning drink at a clean arch from his arm. He sighed as he watched it wash out to sea like so many others had before it. Inside the fragile glass container was yet another message written by him to destinations unknown.

"I don't know why I even bother.", Matthew muttered to himself as he climbed back up the rocky shore line that made up the pathway to his home, and what an unusual home it was. Not many could claim anymore than they lived in a still functioning lighthouse. Even fewer could say that they lived on a deserted island made entirely of granite off the coast of Nova Scotia. Matthew's tiny spit of land was by the tiny rural fishing village of Sambro, off of a remote shoreline where only seagulls were his most constant visitors. On good days, Matthew would sail over to civilization to restock on essential supplies but for the most part, he existed on him own.

The lighthouse had been a promotion…of sorts….if one could call a barren wasteland surrounded by ill tempered, choppy seas of iron gray water that. Matthew had joined the Canadian Coast Guard because he had always loved the sea but still felt some sort of need to serve his country. He had done well enough to gain some notice, just not the kind that he had wanted. With his medical skills and excellent marks in survival training, his superiors had deemed Sambro Island Light the perfect assignment for Matthew. While the work was mostly routine and really just a matter of checking and changing out the burned out bulb filaments and running sound tests on the fog horn audio system, Matthew had to admit to himself, he did get a sense of accomplishment and general wellbeing whenever he watched ships sail safely past his lighthouse.

Now only if it wasn't so damn lonely…..

Tossing messages in bottles at the ocean had been his twin's idea. Alfred knew that while Matthew did not mind being alone, he did mind being lonely. It was easy to think sometimes that one was forgotten by the entire world here in a place like this. Alfred had made the suggestion after the last time he had visited upon noticing that Matthew had taken into the habit of carrying around and conversing with a small stuffed animal. His twin's reservation aside, Matthew still thought that Kuma….Kumakara?….Kumajama?….the polar bear cub was excellent company despite other people's nosy and possibly very sane opinions about it.

Unfortunately Alfred's visits were few and far between, his twin joining the Marines as soon as it was legally possible. Alfred had never gotten over or forgiven their parent's divorce or the move. Matthew had been taken up to Canada by their mother, while Alfred had been forced to stay in Texas with their father. Alfred popped in whenever he could(usually unannounced and uninvited) but it would be years sometimes between these visits due to Alfred's deployment.

Every week or so, Matthew would write a letter. Nothing too long and nothing too short. Just a letter, neatly written and rolled up in a scroll like fashion before being placed in a wine bottle, the cork of it sealed with wax. In the beginning, Matthew would just write about his day and what he did for a living. That got too boring even for him though. After a while, Matthew began to write down whatever came to his mind. Sometimes, he would simply talk about a silly dream he had or more mundanely, the pancakes that he made that morning. Other times, the letter would be entire compositions, the Canadian baring his soul out on paper, his hopes and fears made real in literary form. Matthew figured that the bottles either shattered or sank eventually so why not? He had stopped giving out his address on them ages ago, signing the letter now simply as 'Matthew of Sambro Island' or 'The lighthouse on the edge of infinity' if he was feeling especially morose that day.

Matthew never thought for one moment that anyone would actually find one of his bottles or much less read them or respond to him. At first, he had had some meager hopes and maybe even one silly dream of being flooded by letters from all over the world by people who had found his bottles. Hope like that soon becomes worn and tattered though after too many years out in the wind, so Matthew packed his away into the smaller corners of his mind to save it for something plausible. He didn't know what that something was or if it would even happen to him. Nothing ever happened to him.

Matthew sighed, looking over his shoulder at the iron gray sea capped with slashes of foamy white. No…..nothing happened here….

….and nothing ever would.

Another week passed and Matthew found himself back down at his dock. He sat on the weathered wood and toyed with the bright blue bottle at his side. Yet another letter was nestled within its glass confines.

"I can't keep doing this. Really if I think aboot it, I am just littering.", Matthew muttered at his means of communication as he picked up the vessel to study it with renewed interest. As much as he tried to talk himself out of it, Matthew couldn't bring himself to ever quit. The very act of writing the letter broke up the monotony of his week, plus it gave him an excuse to drink. Pulling back his arm, Matthew launched the bottle into the air and watched its curved decent into the ocean. He followed the bobbing cork until the currents pulled it out of sight. Matthew remained sitting there, ignoring the cold that nipped at his face and fingers, and tried to seep underneath his thick sweater. He was used to it by now and for once, the sun was out so he was going to enjoy it while he had a chance so that he could enjoy the view. The light made the ocean glitter like it was made of sapphires mixed with stardust, its chaotic surface broken occasionally by a fishing birds that dared each other for fish or a clump of migrating seaweed making its way to shore.

A very recognizable striped fin in shades of light and darker gray caught Matthew's idle attention, cutting the water's surface just a few feet away from him. While sharks were not an uncommon sight, he had never seen one swim so close to his deck. Sighing, Matthew stood up, the lighthouse keeper not willing to risk having his legs mistaken by some wayward shark as its next meal. To his amazement, the fin continued to glide toward him, the shark swimming close enough to the dock now that Matthew could make out the striped pattern on its smooth gray flesh.

Leaning over cautiously, Matthew peered into the water. Red eyes looked back at him but they were not set in the kind of face that Matthew was expecting to find. Instead of the bullet shaped form, a human face stared up at Matthew, the outline of it made blurry from looking at it through the water's surface.

Stepping back in rude shock, Matthew rubbed his face with his hands, letting the callused tips of them work into the delicate skin of his temples. He had finally lost it. Matthew had heard of all the stories of men left too long on their own and all the creatures they had hallucinated as a byproduct of their isolation. Telling himself it was a shark and only a shark, Matthew lowered his hands to risk another look for his sanity's sake.

By now, the 'shark' had surfaced and was studying Matthew intently with its bizarre scarlet eyes, the color of them made more sharp by the long silvery lashes that accented them. Short spiky locks the color of old iron dripped seawater onto too pale skin that had never seen the true light of day expect fractured through tons of salted water. Gills, fins, or a combination of both were on either side of the shark's head where ears would have been on a human. The shark's face was lean and angular with high cheekbones, sharp facial features, and a fine, straight nose. The oddity tilted its head to the side as if in inquiry as it leaned up even closer, using its tail as both leverage and anchor. Matthew watched in morbid fascination as pale fingers gripped at the deck, the tip of them ended in solid talons rather than nails and the in between spaces of the fingers webbed with gray flesh.

Was it human, was all Matthew's brain could ask, the term 'shark' losing its grip as the being's description. It reasserting itself when the strange man grinned at Matthew, his teeth defiantly not human. The jagged sharp tips of them interlocked and were triangular in form with ridges along their edges. Those dagger like teeth looked capable of ripping apart flesh without even really trying. Staring wide eyed and slack jawed, Matthew toyed between the notions of fleeing for his life or passing out on the spot.

"H-hello?", Matthew managed somehow to stammer out, dismissing either notion by making his tone of voice sound almost normal. For all he knew, this could just be a very elaborate hallucination on his part. If it was real, fainting would only give the sharkman a chance to pull him into the water to eat him and running away was never a good option. It might entice his visitor to stay for some reason.

"Are you Matthew?", the sharkman asked, his words guttural to the ear and his voice sounding almost hoarse.

Matthew congratulated himself for not screaming like a little girl but only because he was too stunned to really react in a proper manner( i.e. run away like a bat out of hell and lock himself in the lighthouse to babble at walls until he felt better). Chewing his bottom lip out of nervous habit, Matthew debated with himself on several things. First off, he would love to know how the sharkman knew his name. Putting that mystery to the side for now, Matthew wondered how he should answer. Would the sharkman go away if he told him 'no'. If he told him 'yes', would the strange being stay? Did this sharkman want something from him?

"It's not a hard question, dummkopf.", the sharkman rolled his blood colored eyes expressively wide, "Damn, humans are dumb. Don't even know their own names."

"I-I'm sorey!", Matthew cursed inwardly at himself for stuttering again and for his ingrained use of politeness. It didn't exactly scream confidence in the face of adversity. "I know my name, thank you very much. Why should I give it out to you? It's not everyday, a…shark…person….thing pops out of nowhere and asks for it."

"Dumb and rude. Kesesesese.", the shark man chuckled, his laughter a strange rasping sound that grated on Matthew's ears, "I'm not a thing. I am a Galeocerdo."

"Is that like a mermaid?", Matthew found himself asking, even as parts of his common sense were begging him to make for the safety of his lighthouse.

The question earned him a look of disgust from the self proclaimed Galeocerdo, the sharkman leaning back in the water so that he could bring his tail into full view, the fins of it dipping in the out of the water as he balanced in the current. "Do I look like some slut bag fish with a singing fetish to you?". The sharkman's tail was that of a tiger shark, the flesh of the appendage light grey with a rubbery looking texture to it, the smooth surface of gray skin slashed with a darker grey stripes pattern and the finer lines of some silvery scars.

His curiosity getting the better of him, Matthew found himself staring at the sharkman's tail and even speculate what it would feel like under his hands. "You wanna touch it?", the shark man grinned up at Matthew, making him wonder just how long he had been staring at his unusual company. The open view of keen teeth again made Matthew break off his perusal and step back. He noticed that the sharkman's expression dropped into a frown upon noticing his minor retreat.

"Never mind.", The sharkman huffed, lowering his tail so that it disappeared beneath the water once again. "Can you just answer my question? Are you Matthew or am I looking for some other lighthouse? Scheiße, I was sure that damn crab gave me the right directions this time.".

"Are you speaking German? Is that what that accent is?", Matthew asked in surprise. He thought he had recognized some of the foreign words.

"Nein. It's Prussian.", the sharkman answered indignantly with a shake of his head that sent droplets of salty water flying everywhere, "I first learned to speak human from this awesome guy Fritz and later again from this pirate named Kirkland who had a real hard on for proper English, whatever the hell that is."

"Speak human…", Matthew began wonder aloud only to be interrupted by a series of bizarre clicking and grumbling sounds coming from the sharkman's throat, "Maple! What the hell was that?"

"What? Do you really think that we naturally speak your ugly languages?", the shark man laughed, "You are just lucky I am so awesome that I bothered to learn two of them. I can also speak whale.".

"Ok….Do you have a name? One that I will be able to understand?", Matthew knew there was no chance in hell that he could be able to produce any of those odd noises without making a fool of himself.

"Only the best name ever! Fritz gave it to me! In human, my name is Gilbert!", the sharkman stated very proudly for some reason. Matthew didn't have the heart to tell him that most people would not chose that name if given half a chance at birth.

"My name is Matthew….", the lighthouse keeper began to introduce himself but was surprised out of it as Gilbert's face lit up with uncontained excitement, his tail rising up to slap at the water. Matthew barely managed to dodge the spray in time.

"So you are Matthew!", Gilbert yelled, doing an odd little dance in the water. Matthew had to step back several paces to save his sweater and pants from being splashed.

"I am a Matthew, though I might not be your Matthew. It is a very common name here, I am afraid. Do you have a last name to go with it perhaps?", Matthew asked once Gilbert's joyous spin in the water had settled down. "Why are you looking for a Matthew at all?".

"Scheiße! You mean there is more than one!?", Gilbert looked shocked by the idea of such a concept.

"Of course there is. Like I said, it's a popular name. There are thousands if not millions of Matthews in the world.", the lighthouse keeper shrugged. Now that he thought about it, it made him feel kinda invisible having such a common title.

"My people don't reuse names. It's considered bad luck to do so. Every Galeocerdo born is given an original name to reflect who they are as a being.", Gilbert said looking practically distressed. "My own name in your language means 'Warrior whose laughter strikes fear into the hearts of his enemies'.".

"That's interesting….and long…", Matthew said carefully.

"Ja…Well…..it's sounds better in my native tongue.", Gilbert shrugged, sinking back further into the water from the gesture. Or it could have been from under the weight of his tone. The shark man looked abysmal, his worry and uncertainty gnawing its way to the surface of his peculiar pallid skin.

"Why are you looking for him?", Matthew asked gently, feeling oddly sorry for the shark man. He didn't seem to wear defeat well. Instead of answering, Gilbert disappeared beneath the salt water, leaving soft foam to swirl in his wake. He was gone for long enough that the silence seemed unnaturally fragile and Matthew began to doubt his own sanity once more. Just as he started to wonder if he should leave while he had half the chance, the silverette returned with a splash, his pale torso breaking the water's surface once again. This time Gilbert had something in hand though, Matthew noticing several braided strips of seaweed wrapped tightly around his fist. The woven cords were carefully tied around the necks of some very familiar looking bottles, a great number of them in fact, all of which with letters within their hollows. Some of the stationary appeared worse for wear, having been opened improperly so that water seeped in through the cork, the cargo sodden and blurred into smudged nonsense.

"I'm looking for the Matthew who wrote all these letters. According to that damn crab, the address should be around here somewhere. Is there another lighthouse near by?", Gilbert sighed, looking suddenly very tired as his pallid shoulders slumped. He tied the kelp to the dock to keep the bottles from sinking again.

"How on earth…When did you…where did you get all those? I thought they were all lost.", Matthew babbled, his mind racing and bounding about in circles upon itself. He knelt down on the dock, ignoring the moisture that soaked in through his thick pants, and reached out a hand to glide his fingers down the bottles, some of which were years old. Matthew could tell by the bottle color alone. He had switched from red wine to white wine a while back. His oldest letters were encased in brown and black bottles while his newer post had merrier colors of green, bright blue, and even red.

"So you are the Matthew I've been looking for!?", Gilbert grinned, the expression only growing wider as he watched Matthew reach down into the water to touch his lost messages. "I found the first one in what you call the Channel, between England and France. I found another tangled up in some garbage out in the middle of nowhere waters of the Atlantic. I traded with an octopus for two more. After I had collected about six or seven of them, I got curious and started to track down their source. I've been looking for you for many, many moons, Matthew of the lighthouse.

"B-but…..why?", Matthew felt like he was at a total loss. The dream of an answer to his message in a bottle seemed unreal even when it was new and he could have never imagined this type of answer to them.

"So Matthew, ever had a wet date?", Gilbert leered, leaning in on the dock in such a predatory fashion that it made Matthew feel instantly uneasy. It took a moment for him to process the shark man's question.

"Eh?", was all Matthew could manage but it did make him pause long enough for Gilbert to react. The shark man rose out of the water fluidly, diving straight out of the sea to land on top of Matthew, making him yelp in surprise. The lighthouse keeper sagged under the new weight as he felt his collar grabbed and sinewy pale arms lock themselves around his shoulders and neck. As Gilbert shoved his face toward Matthew, the human closed his eyes in a blind panic, praying that when Gilbert bit out his throat or chewed off his nose it wouldn't hurt too much.

So Matthew was quite surprised when he felt lips upon his own.

Matthew was struck dumb not only by the act of it itself, but by the chill brought with it. Lips too soft to be real were as cold as the Artic waters they existed in. Matthew trembled as they melded to his lips and could feel the warmth of his own flesh against Gilbert's glacier skin.

Luckily, Matthew was strong from living so long on his own or he would have fallen into the ice cold ocean, the shark man was being fully supported by him. As it was, Matthew fell backwards, taking Gilbert with him, still connected. The shark man's arms were like a sodden vise around his neck.

The hot and cold kiss was broken as the air was knocked out of both pairs of lungs, leaving both participants gasping and staring at each other. Parts of Matthew's mind were blown in the quake of this kiss though other more rational parts were noting how heavy and wet Gilbert was, the shark man laying fully on top of Matthew, pinning him to the dock.

Matthew didn't get to dwell on any of this for long. Gilbert turned out to be as greedy as the animal he mimicked, cold lips descended down to claim Matthew's own again and again and again, until the lighthouse keeper's lips started to grow too numb for him to feel anymore.

"St-t…op…..stop!…..Sto…", Matthew squeaked out between the amorous assaults, the shark man all enthusiasm and animation but no real skill. A traitorous part of Matthew's mind noted that shark people must not kiss in their culture or maybe kissing was totally different underwater. Ignoring such thoughts, Matthew worked his hands underneath Gilbert's chin, staying mindful of those sharp teeth as he pushed Gilbert up and away.

"Why?", Gilbert asked breathlessly, looking down at Matthew in open surprise, his too red eyes wide with question.

"Because….Because, I don't know you! Because strangers, at least human strangers, just don't' do that with one another.", Matthew explained desperately quick. For all he knew, it was a common custom from where Gilbert was from. The shark man didn't look like he was gong anywhere soon and he was far too heavy to move. Matthew was barely able to keep Gilbert off him as it was. Words would have to be his leverage for now.

"But I'm the love of your life.", Gilbert calmly stated, leaning up on his elbows to peer down at his quarry with an inquisitive but entirely honest look.

"Eh?"


	2. Chapter 2

It's far beyond the stars  
it's near beyond the moon  
I know beyond a doubt  
my heart will lead me there soon

-Bobby Darin 'Beyond The Sea'

"But I'm the love of your life.", Gilbert calmly stated, leaning up on his elbows to peer down at his quarry with an inquisitive but entirely honest look.

"Eh?", Matthew fumbled mentally for a moment before coming up with a slightly better rebuttal. "I'm sorey?". Matthew decided that didn't have the impact that he had wanted as cold salt water dripped off of Gilbert's hair and skin to soak him and his apparel. His mind struggled to process all the information which was notably difficult while Gilbert's fingers stroked his cheeks and his breath ruffled his fringe, making his stubborn stray curl bob. "Um…..how did you come to that conclusion?".

"From your letters of course.", Gilbert grinned. Matthew tried not to wince from being so close to those jagged teeth. They looked even sharper to him, especially now when they were just a few inches from his face.

With those teeth and their near proximity in mind, Matthew debated with himself on how he should deal with this awkward situation. The sharkman….Gilbert…..claimed that he was in love with him or something to that nature. It might not be the best course of action to piss him off just yet or at least while he was lying on top of him. "That's what you gleaned from them?", Matthew said carefully as he tried to shift out from under the shark man. It was a futile attempt though and in the end, Matthew had to settle on just making himself comfortable.

"You're awesome. I'm awesome. What's not to get?", Gilbert laughed, letting his elbows give out so that he could lay fully out on top of Matthew. "And you are so warm! It's nice! Are all humans this warm?!".

"Only the live ones not being crushed to death. Your's freezing and really heavy. Would you please get off of me? I can't feel my legs.", Matthew pleaded. To his complete surprise, Gilbert reacted quickly to the request as the shark man rolled off to the side in a smooth movement. Before he could utter a sigh of relief about it, Matthew found one of his legs being grabbed and examined closely.

"Mein Gott! You have pants! I haven't seen one of these up close in forever! I had forgotten how fucking weird they are! Kesesese!", Gilbert snickered as to ran his webbed hands up and down Matthew's pant leg to touch his boots with curious fingers that lingered over inlets, tabs, and pockets for longer than Matthew would have liked.

"Thank you? I think?", Matthew winced as his pant's zipper was discovered and played with. "Please don't do that."

"Why? Oh Scheiße! There is more underneath!", Gilbert shouted in his excitement, his hands diving into Matthew's pants and underneath all the layers, much to the other's distress. Matthew scrambled away and was on his feet in time before anything too interesting or delicate was revealed or mishandled.

"No, no, no, no, no! You are not going there. It's indecent, we've only just met, and your hands are way too cold.", Matthew said in the face of Gilbert's obvious disappointment. Looking down at the shark man, the lighthouse keeper got a little lightheaded as he stared at the oddity on his deck. For once, Matthew was grateful it was only him on the island and that the seas surrounding his domain were too violent and choppy for any casual fisherman to pass them by in.

There was a legend…..a myth sitting in front of him, wanting to stick its webbed fingers down his pants. Matthew wasn't sure how he should feel about that. For the most part, Matthew had to admit to himself, despite the pun, that Gilbert looked like a fish out of water. His spiky hair was starting to dry out, making the locks look messy as they stuck out at all angles. His long tail shone in shades of white silver and soft pewter, the tones of it catching the bright sunlight but the appendage lay awkwardly out on the deck, curving at such an angle so that the shark man had to prop himself up on his arms. From his point of view Matthew could see now how Gilbert's white skin merged into the sinned white, rubbery flesh of his tail, the seam of it rising and falling up and around his lower hips and groin area. Caught in his daze, Matthew wondered to himself what that transitional skin would feel like. Shark skin was rough enough to use as sandpaper but Gilbert's lips had been so soft.

"I'll let you touch it.", were the words that broke Matthew out of his revelry. He blushed, realizing he must have spaced out again. Living by oneself for too long will tend to do that to a person. Matthew found he had the back habit of staring off into the distance for hours on end while his mine worked things out. With no one to point it out or to help break him out of it, the lighthouse keeper had lost many an hour zoning out over nothing.

"W-what?!", Matthew sputtered, his mind visiting the gutter as his eyes flew up and down the shark man's form. To his visual knowledge, there wasn't anything to touch, the shark man's groin area smooth as a Ken doll.

"My tail. You keep staring at it.", Gilbert leered, leaning forward. "What did you think I was talking about?".

"N-nothing. Nothing at all.", Matthew stammered, cursing himself as he felt a hot blush flared up in his cheeks, "Maybe later….Don't you need to stay in the water?".

"Well yeah, but I'm fine for now.", Gilbert shrugged, "Never mind that. Why can't I touch you and why won't you touch me?". The shark man started to crawl forward the best he could to end the gap between them. Matthew made himself not react as Gilbert came closer though his instincts were screaming at him to run as a predator approached. Matthew truly doubted that Gilbert would be able to make it over the rocky cliffs and paths that led up to his lighthouse. At the same time though, Matthew really didn't want Gilbert to even consider trying it and end up hurting himself because he was delusional.

Matthew rubbed his temples and wondered how he was going to explain the concept of personal space to the shark man. It became a moot point though, as Gilbert was at his feet now and tugging on his pant's leg to pull himself up. His fingers linked into Matthew's belt loop as the shark man tried to topple the human over with his sheer weight alone. Matthew was a seasoned maritime veteran though, capable of walking the decks of any ship being tossed around at storm struck sea with confidence and not lose his balance once.

"What are you doing?! Stop that!", Matthew admonished, smacking the shark man on the back of his head. Gilbert ceased trying to knock him over but refused to let go of his pants, the sea creature rubbing his face into the material of Matthew's pants at his thighs. Matthew breathe hitched in this throat as light touches were ghosted over his crotch.

"I just want to hold you. That's what mates do with one another. We can't do that if you keep being all human and stand there like that.", Gilbert said, speaking sullen words to Matthew's kneecaps. He crooned more to Matthew but it was lost in translation, the shark man falling back into his natural language.

It didn't matter anyway. Matthew was too stunned at the moment to take note of the odd clicking and shrill groans Gilbert was emitting. His mind was elsewhere, trying to figure out how the hell he had gone from poor lonely morose lighthouse keeper to beloved mate of a mythological creature with bad touch issues in less than a hour.

"When you say mate, you mean friend, right?", Matthew attempted to search for some common ground between them. Perhaps this was all one big misunderstanding. Matthew risked a look down to find scarlet eyes staring up at him with a wide open expression.

"Maybe I said that wrong.", Gilbert said thoughtfully. Matthew almost felt faint with relief. The sensation was a passing flight of fancy though, the shark man continuing. "I meant soul mate…..life partner….spouse?".

"Stop…please stop. I get the picture.", Matthew sighed, feeling like a yacht had just plowed into him. "I'm sorey, but this is not going to work.". Gilbert's grip tightened painfully around his legs as Matthew mentally flailed about, wishing he had phrased that better and even more so, when the shark man was so near his tender flesh of his inner thigh and the family jewels.

To Matthew surprise and relief, Gilbert merely turned his face so that his forehead nuzzled Matthew's leg. "It's because of my skin. My coloration, right?", Gilbert said softly enough Matthew almost missed it entirely.

"Your coloration? What? No, no!" Matthew said quickly, feeling strangely bad for the shark man at his feet. He resisted the urge to run his hands through Gilbert's silvery hair, the dark gray locks of it turning lighter and more metallic as it dried out. It looked oddly soft to the touch. "Why would you say something like that?", Matthew found himself asking. "You look perfectly normal…um…..I think…..for being a shark….person…..I have no idea what I am saying.". Matthew look up at the sky for guidance as he trailed off, feeling very useless in the comforting department. He wondered how the hell this conversation had taken a turn for the worse and the weird…..weirder. This was not how he excepted to spent his day, hanging out on the dock with a despondent sharkman whose arms were wrapped around his legs tight as barnacles on a ship's hull.

"The others…..won't mate with me. I'm too different. My skin is too pale and my eyes are red. They think it is a sickness that I'll pass along if I spawn with them.", Gilbert mumbled, his fingers stroking Matthew's jeans, his continuous touch seemingly enamored with the thick material.

Something about Gilbert's tone of voice made Matthew pause in thought as he tried to remember everything he ever read about fish, animals and recall every special he had seen on Animal Planet. "I think it would be safe to say that you are alone a lot then.", Matthew said slowly. Gilbert nodded, not bothering to look up to confirm though his grip tightened again. "I think it would be also safe to assume some of those scars on your tail are from your own people.", he continued, hating himself even as he spoke the words, hearing the truth in them. His heart broke a bit when Gilbert just nodded again, his head bowing a bit more into Matthew's legs as if for support. "And then you found my letters. You read how lonely I was and you related to it.", Matthew reasoned out for himself as he reached down. He stopped resisting and succumbed to the urge, his fingers sinking deep into Gilbert's hair to card through the silvery locks. They were as soft as they looked and more so than Matthew ever imagined. Gilbert pressed his head up into the touch, his hold on the lighthouse keeper's leg trembling from the simple touch.

"Gilbert…", Matthew started, pausing when he saw the shark man stilled under the sound of his own name. Thinking that he might draw back, Matthew kept him in place with his tips of his fingers alone. "Gilbert…..", he said again, this time more gently, "I'm not saying I don't want to be your mate because of how you look. I think you're actually quite beautiful.". Gilbert turned his face upward in surprise, his eyes glittering like rubies as Matthew's hand followed the motion of his head so that his hand slid down to the side and cupped Gilbert's pale face.

"Then what is it?", Gilbert mouthed into Matthew's palm, the shark man pressing his lips to the meat of it. Despite the pleasant tingling sensation, Matthew found part of his resolve again when he caught a glimpse of those awful teeth so close to his skin.

"I'm not sure how you base the foundations of your people's relationships on but humans usually take the time to get to know each other before committing themselves to one another.", Matthew explained, keeping his voice soft as Gilbert continued to nuzzle Matthew's hand with his face. The shark man's skin hunger was catching it would seem, Matthew enjoying the attention and contact more than he knew he should have. He couldn't remember the last time someone had spent so much time and effort just focusing on him. Gilbert reacted to his closeness and touch as if he would shrivel up and die without it.

A burning nugget of shame coupled with guilt seared Matthew with how much pleasure he got from that thought. He had to bring an end to this before things got out of hand, before Matthew let them get out of hand. It would be all too easy for him just allow Gilbert love him, to take advantage of this poor creature's unfair fate in life. The terms of lighthouse keeper's isolation was entirely different from the shark man's own, more due to location and the constant bad weather than anything else. Matthew couldn't imagine what it would be like to be driven away from his own people and shamed into solitude based on his looks alone.

A darker part of himself though, could imagine keeping Gilbert with him and never being lonely again. Matthew had a bad vision of himself sequestering Gilbert to the bathroom and keeping him there in a tub filled with seawater. He would make better company than the bear at least. Matthew could all to easily see himself keep Gilbert with him in that little room. He would even need chains….

Matthew smacked his face hard with his free hand making both of them jump from the sharp noise it made. "Sorey, but I needed that.", Matthew laughed nervously as the shark man gave him a strange look. "Look, we are totally different species and don't mermaids…..shark people….sea creatures eat humans?".

"I'm not a fucking mermaid, damn it. I told you, I'm a Galeocerdo!", Gilbert growled through his horrible teeth, his talons digging through Matthew's pants now so sharply that his talons dug into Matthew's skin. Matthew made himself stand perfectly still, remembering that sharks were attracted to motion and tried to keep calm in case shark were sensitive to scents as well. Matthew found he couldn't remember if they were or not. For whatever reason, Gilbert seemed to realize that he was hurting Matthew or smelled the blood from the tiny wounds he made because he let up immediately though he kept his hands in place upon Matthew. Gilbert bumped Matthew hand with his forehead, as if in apology. The lighthouse keeper moved careful to start petting the shark man again, letting strands of his silver hair slide in between his fingers like strange silk. It prompted Gilbert to keep talking, though this time far more calmly. "I'm not going to eat you. I don't want to eat you. I would never….. Human don't taste that good anyway."

"I don't even want to know how you found that out.", Matthew worked to keep his tone even and calm as if he were soothing a wild animal. In some ways, he was. Matthew wondered how many facets were in Gilbert's own madness. Isolation bred it as assuredly as dampness bred mold. Matthew could only imagine what could come about in the heavy dark of the ocean, with death swimming every current.

It was soothing a way to him. It made Matthew feel less like a villain about to steal something so beautiful from the sea by using his words alone. "Okay, I can work with that. How do you plan on keep seeing me though? I live up on land in the lighthouse.".

Matthew yelped as Gilbert's arms bore down on his legs. It took the lighthouse keeper a moment to realized that the shark man was not trying to pull him over again but was reacting from the mass amounts of pain he was experiencing. Matthew watched in morbid fascination as flesh of Gilbert's tail rippled in visible waves of flesh from top to tip, ripping down the middle in a horrible meaty sound. Sounds of bone on bone grinding down on one another made Matthew nearly gag, the human swallowing back the vomit that seared his throat as thin red blood poured out of the wound onto the deck.

With the exception of trying to cease circulation in Matthew's legs from his grip, Gilbert barely made a sound, his eyes sealed shut in contained pain. The transformation completely itself just as abruptly at it started, ending with a bizarre sucking sound as silvery skin seamlessly resealed itself, leaving shark and human shaking for very different reasons from it. With Matthew's help, the shark man shakily stood up.

In the place of a shark's tail, Gilbert now sported a pair of legs though he could never be mistaken for being human by having them. The skin of his legs was still that of his original, silvery white with pewter gray stripes and scars the lay across his thighs and calves. His feet were similar to his hands, ending in talons instead of toes with no division between the phalanges. The webbing on his hands and strange pointed ears remained as well. The major difference was what lay between those new appendages. It made Matthew's mouth dry out completely and his throat swallow hard though no fear was involved in this reaction. Matthew had never realized that want could have the same bodily reaction as fear.

"I didn't know you could do that.", Matthew said, trying valiantly to keep his eyes up even as he could feel his cheeks began to burn again. It didn't help that Gilbert had no sense of balance and was still recovering from his change. The shark man was pressing all of 'that' up against him. Even when it was flaccid, Matthew could feel its hefty girth through the layers of it clothing. Focusing elsewhere, Matthew noticed that Gilbert was still very cool to his touch but it didn't matter. Matthew was hot enough for the both of them at the moment.

"Ja, but we don't like to do it.", Gilbert gasped the last of his pain out through his sharp teeth, the shark man sounding exhausted from his ordeal.

"I can see why. Can you walk?", Matthew asked, wondering if the Gilbert was cold. He was very naked and standing out in a blasting 9 C wind.

Gilbert released his hold upon Matthew and stood on his own two misshapen feet. Swaying, the albino pin wheeled his arms a bit before finding his center of gravity. Shooting a grin at Matthew, Gilbert took his first steps on land…

And promptly fell flat on his face. "Nein."

Stifling a chuckle that threatened to escape past his pressed lips, Matthew went kneel down in front of the fallen. "Climb on.", he sighed, pointing to his back.

"What are you doing?", Matthew heard Gilbert ask. The lighthouse keeper looked over his shoulder to find the shark man staring at him as he picked himself off of the dock.

"Climb onto my back by putting your arms around my shoulders and your legs around my waist. I'll carry you to the lighthouse. Hopefully you won't be as heavy as before, but if I can carry my brother's drunk fat ass up that hill, I'm sure I can make it with you.", Matthew muttered, promising himself a long soak in a hot bath later on for all the sore muscles he was about to experience.

It was silent for long enough behind him Matthew was about to turn around again to re-explain the idea behind a piggy back ride when a scrabbling of uncoordinated limbs against wood propelled itself unto Matthew's back with such a force it made the man almost fall over.

"Not so tight. Shoulders! Hold on to my shoulders!", Matthew gasped as he steadied himself with one hand while using the other slap against Gilbert's forearms, the shark man's grip around his throat constricting. Matthew gulped at air as Gilbert readjusted himself, feeling as if he was trying to place every inch of his front up against Matthew's back. To the lighthouse keeper's relief as he stood up with his passenger, the shark man felt lighter than before. He was nowhere as heavy as Alfred and if Matthew had to wager a guess, Gilbert weighed even less than him by a good twenty pounds.

"How long can you stay like this? With legs, I mean.", Matthew asked as he made his way carefully up the rocky shoreline that was the pathway back to his home. Gilbert didn't answer right away, the shark too busy snuffling his nose through Matthew's wavy blonde hair to glory in his natural odor . Matthew would have reprimanded him for his lack of manners if it hadn't felt so good, the sensation of someone scenting his scalp strangely arousing. Matthew was grateful to himself that he had chosen to carry Gilbert home this way instead of bridal style. His growing embarrassment in the front was easier to hide this way.

"Whenever the moon turns into a fat pearl for three nights, I will have to return to the sea. No more than that though and the transformation should become easier with practice over time.", Gilbert mumbled into pale golden locks. His breathe warmed Matthew's neck, making the man shiver from all things other than the biting cold that surround them.

"I only have one bed. Is that going to be alright with you?", Matthew asked, blushing at his own voice, the tone of it low and husky. Luckily Gilbert seemed too tired to notice, the shark man lowering his head to rest on Matthew's shoulder, the rest of his body the dead weight of the truly fatigued.

"Ja.", Gilbert mumbled in Matthew's ear.

"…"

"What is a bed?"


	3. Chapter 3

APH PruCan Beyond the Sea 3

It was snowing in his room. Mathew didn't know why but considering that he had just brought home a shark man last night, who was he to say that there couldn't be a miniature weather system in his bedroom.

Waking a bit more fully, Matthew sat up suddenly to watch another flurry of soft white float down upon him to blanket his form. The source of this impromptu storm was not hard to find or figure out. Matthew watched in horrified shock and some awe as Gilbert enthusiastically threw big handfuls of feathers up into the air to watch them fall, his scarlet eyes wide with wonder at their spiraling descent. The feathers clung to his pale skin and in his spiky silver hair, and even more so to the rougher striped gray white skin of his legs so that the creature looked more like foul than fish.

Having flung all of his fluffy entertainment away, Gilbert looked around for some more ammunition, oblivious to the fact that Matthew was now awake. Apparently feathers were a worthy enough distraction to forget about the man sleeping beside you no more than two feet away, Matthew's mind grumbled. The lighthouse keeper grimaced, founding himself feeling strangely jealous of pillows.

Finding no feathers in his near vicinity that didn't involve him chasing after or gathering, Gilbert seemed to settle on attacking a large pillow in a full body cuddle by wrapping his arms and legs around it. His face nuzzled the top and it would have been adorable if not for the rows of triangular teeth Gilbert was sinking into the soft material of the pillow.

Still struck speechless by the sight of senseless, gruesome pillow murder, Matthew watched as Gilbert bit off the top of the deceased bedding with his razor sharp teeth. The lighthouse keeper was snapped out of his stupor upon hearing the pillow's final demise. "Stop that! What in Maple do you think that you are doing?!", Matthew yelled, making the shark man jump.

"This is awesome! What do you call these things again?", Gilbert ignored Matthew's question in favor of his own. He also dug his hands into the pillow's open belly to pull out fluffy innards, making the blonde sigh as he watched them being flung up in the air again in a storm of white.

"I told you all about them last night, remember?", Matthew griped as he started to pile up feathers in a vain attempt to clean. It looked like Gilbert had been at this for a while.

"Nein, but I was really tired.", Gilbert shrugged. Matthew nodded back because that much was true. A lot had happened in the last few hours, more than Matthew would have ever dared to hope or dream for.

After Gilbert had transformed his tail into a roughly hewed pair of legs, Matthew had carried him back to his home and place of work, the lighthouse, the newly changed shark man unable to walk competently as of just yet. Exhausted by the events of the day, the pair had opted for some rest….well, more accurately, Matthew had decided since Gilbert had already fallen asleep on his back. Luckily for him, his bedroom was ground level.

Matthew lived in and maintained a lighthouse called Sambro Island Light off the coast of Nova Scotia near a tiny fishing village that went by the same name. His work was mostly routine and really was just a matter of checking and changing out the burned out bulb filaments and running sound tests on the fog horn audio system. He also did repairs upon the building itself and kept up its cheerful red and white appearance by repainting the cylindrical building every couple of months and polishing all its metal fixtures meticulously like clockwork.

The lighthouse had three levels to it and all the levels were connected by a metal staircase that spiraled up the very center of the structure, acting like the building's backbone encased in a body of weathered stone. The ground level was where Matthew lived, the circular room divided up into a small bedroom, an even smaller spare room used primarily for storage, and the combined living room and kitchen area. The second level housed all the weather detection equipment, communications array, and fog horn audio system. The last level was the peak and contained the glowing eye of the tower.

There was only one bed though and Matthew hadn't been about to sleep on his own couch. That and he didn't trust Gilbert to stay put there either. The shark man seemed to have an endless curiosity when it came to anything on land. Matthew supposed it was only natural. If their situations were reversed and Matthew was a being from under the sea, he was sure that he would be pointing and staring at things that Gilbert considered everyday normal.

And then there was the idea of having someone to sleep next to him for once that was also oh so, very appealing to Matthew…

The usually simple process of bed had been turned into an ordeal though. It all started when Matthew went to the bathroom to relieve himself for a few mere minutes. He had left a very woozy Gilbert in the center of the bed, telling him to stay put. When the lighthouse keeper came back though, there was no shark man to be found. After frantically searching all the small rooms, racing up and down the staircase, and even running outside to circle the building, Matthew had started to get some rather desperate thoughts. Matthew had even begun to think that he was actually crazy….that was until he heard some faint snuffling coming from the area of the bed though it was strangely floor level.

Dropping down to hit the tile, Matthew looked under his bed to find a snoozing shark man curled up tight there. Snoring softly, Gilbert cuddled with some wayward dust bunnies that Matthew had missed while cleaning. He pulled Gilbert out from under the bed easily enough by taking a hold of his bare shoulders and applying some tugging to them. Gilbert barely even acknowledged it, the shark man twisting up further into a little ball on the floor at Matthew's feet. With some gentle prodding, Matthew managed to get Gilbert back on his feet again long enough to place him back on the bed.

"What were you doing down there? We sleep on top.", Matthew asked Gilbert as he looked around for a night shirt of some sort for the sharkman.

"Felt safe….", Gilbert mumbled, looking around with heavy eyes and motioned to the bed, "This is too exposed. I can't sleep here.".

An odd idea made Matthew look for every cover, sheet, and blanket he owned, the lighthouse keeper piling on the bed. Matthew remembered that Gilbert's skin was still cool to the touch so it was possible that he experienced temperatures differently than human perceived them. Just maybe this would work.

Gilbert inspected blankets one by one, touching the soft material slowly with his taloned fingertips. It was like he had never seen them before. It struck Matthew hard that, no, in fact he had not.

"They keep you warm and you can sleep under them. You can use the pillows as well.", Matthew explained, giving the confused shark man some of the bedding. Gilbert studied the pillows for a moment before throwing them over his shoulder unimpressed. Matthew shrugged at his response, not expecting the other to understand until he got a crick in his neck. Not being buoyant and suspended in salt water would eventually catch up with him.

Matthew watched as Gilbert laid down, the shark man snuffling under the covers head first with a wiggle and twist, furrowing his way deeper into the pile until Gilbert was completely hidden….well mostly. Matthew practically stuffed his hand into his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. The only part visible was Gilbert's back fin.

Land shark.

Roused by the noise, Gilbert's head popped up at the sounds of Matthew's snickering to glare at the Canadian with sleepy eyes. "What?", he grumbled, disappearing beneath the woolen surface again.

"Nothing. Nothing at all.", Matthew reassured, working to keep his voice normal. Changing out of his heavy, sodden clothing, Matthew threw on some clean boxers and t-shirt. He didn't realize just how tired he was until he climbed into bed, passing out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

"Your pillows don't taste good.", Gilbert complained as rolled around in the feathers., looking infuriatingly pleased with himself.

"No kidding. I would have never guessed that.", Matthew said dryly, pulling on a clean sweater and shimming into some clean jeans over his night wear. It struck Matthew that Gilbert naked and had been this way the entire time. He would have to find some clothes for him before things got…..interesting. Matthew studied the shark man trying to size him up as Gilbert played in his feather mess, happily blowing on them to send the feathers flying again.

Their height was similar, Matthew only taller by an inch or so. The shark man's frame was leaner than his own though and far more defined with lean muscles than his own physique. His duties as a lighthouse keeper made him bulkier from all the manual labor and many, many trips up and down the spiral stairs. Alfred liked to say that he could bounce a quarter off of Matthew's ass, it was so firm and perky, in which his twin would then smack him upside his head for being gross.

Though his feet had rough, unfinished looks to them, Gilbert's new legs were long and well shaped as they moved, gracefully splayed out across the bed even while covered in feathers. Or have the way those gorgeous new thighs tapered and curved into the shark man's waist, dipping and curving in all the right places…..Or how they framed Gilbert's tender meat. Even flaccid, it hung with noticeable heft, its girth impressive even soft.

His face catching fire that began in cheeks and quickly worked its way to his neck and ears, Matthew realized he had to find Gilbert some clothing and soon before he acted upon some darker urges within himself. His line of work was lonely and lonely men did some rather desperate things. Digging through his chest of drawers, Matthew quickly pulled out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt he was sure would fit. He decided against boxers because it felt too weird to share his underwear with Gilbert.

"Here. Put these on and I'll go make us some food.", Matthew said quickly, throwing the garments at the frolicking sea creature who was still enraptured with the pillow's remains.

"How?", put an end to Matthew's escape attempt. He looked up, praying for some sort of restraint on his part. Matthew held his breathe as he moved toward the shark man, picking up the shirt first as his heart raced and his palms grew slick with sweat. The question was innocent enough. He should have know Gilbert would not know what to do with the articles of clothing.

"Raise your arms." Matthew ordered, ignoring how hoarse his voice had gotten. When Gilbert did as he was told, Matthew felt his throat tighten up even further and his mouth go as dry as if he had been drinking salt water. He managed to slip the shirt on without much difficulty, his touch lingering over pallid skin just a second or two longer than it should have. The pants posed another problem entirely. Matthew could explain to Gilbert how to put them on or…

Or he could have a solid viable reason to touch Gilbert.

"Hold still.", Matthew murmured, moving to sit on the bed next to Gilbert.

"Why is your face all red?', Gilbert asked, tilting his head to study the lighthouse keeper. Matthew didn't answer him, too busy watching his hands clutch at the covers. He wasn't sure if he wanted to take this next step…..not just yet….Gilbert was too new to him, to this world. Matthew didn't even know if Gilbert was going to stay. Last night, there was mention of a return to the ocean on three nights of the full moon but nothing beyond that. For all he knew, all of this was a hallucination, the product of a deranged mind left for far too long on its own.

"You can touch me, you know. You're my mate. I want you to.", Gilbert said softly, cracking down on any resolve Matthew might have had left. When he broke, he did so gently though by letting himself touch the shark man's unusual feet, making the clawed fused toes of them twitch. Unsurprisingly, they were rough, the talons of them curved sharp, and the bones in them seemed more angular as if they were shaped wrong under the silvery gray skin. Surprisingly, the texture of Gilbert's skin was suppler than he would have suspected, far softer than it should have been. It was like that of the finest sandpaper but rougher than more human callus. It made Matthew wonder and spread out his palms to further map out the shark man's body.

Looking up, Matthew found Gilbert staring at him with half lidded ruby eyes. The shark nodded in answer to the unasked question between them. Matthew reached out a tentative hand before he realized he was even doing it to touch Gilbert's shoulder, feeling the bloodless skin there. It was plush, feeling velvety under his salt roughened fingertips and Matthew longed to know its taste.

As his hands slid further down to a finely shaped collarbone, Matthew's other hand reminded him of its existence, its touch working a path up Gilbert's shapely leg. Changing the focus of his attention, Matthew admired Gilbert's tiger stripes, tracing the outline of them with his finger. The silvery white grayness of the shark's flesh lightening to the pure white of his torso the further inward he went until Matthew found himself stroking the inside of Gilbert's thighs. So soft and smooth it made Matthew's mouth water with pure want, his tongue touching his lips in longing.

Drawing back before he could lose himself to his desires completely, Matthew let out his held breathe in shaky bursts as he reached for the forgotten pants. "You need to put these on yourself please.", Matthew bit his bottom lip. He knew if this went any further, one of them might end up regretting it. "You just shove your legs through the holes and pull them on. You zip and button up the front to keep them on and take them off.".

The lonely keeper barely suppressed a shiver of delight as Gilbert heeded his words again though he pulled the pants on with a look of distaste.

"I don't like them. It feels funny.", Gilbert complained, picking at the pants in the places they seemed to cling to his skin like Velcro, the material giving off a slight ripping sound as Gilbert fiddled with it.

"You have to wear them.", Matthew said quickly, managing to keep most of desperation out of his voice.

"Why?', Gilbert asked, not noticing the lighthouse keeper's breakdown, the shark man still too busy being grumpy with the pants.

"Because…..because people up here don't walk around naked. It's impractical for one and it's indecent for another.", Matthew explained, "You can't let other people see your naked body."

"But it's only you and me here.", Gilbert pointed out, kicking his feet in a mini tantrum at the dastardly pants.

"You'll get chilly.", Matthew grasped at reasons like a drowning man grasped at straws.

"Nein. I won't.", Gilbert snorted, "I may have legs but I'm not human. I think it's too hot up here.". Matthew supposed that was true. Mer…Shark….whatever….swam naked through the ocean's deep which Matthew knew was around -4 Celsius or lower. Being up topside for Gilbert was probably like living your entire life in the Artic and then suddenly waking up in the Sahara.

"Ok….How's aboot this? You have to wear clothing but you can wear whatever you like for now until I can go into town and buy you something proper to wear.", Matthew conceded, truly wanted to avoid the real reason behind it. Gilbert couldn't walk around naked, not with Matthew libido reeking havoc with his common sense. Plus, Gilbert looked absolutely miserable in his clothing.

Gilbert perked up though at Matthew's offer. "Really!? Awesome!", the shark man looked excited as he stumbled over to Matthew's drawers and closet, rooting through everything found there as clothing flew over too pale shoulders. Matthew sighed as he turned himself toward the kitchen area, sensing a future mess to clean up and possibly some laundry to do later.

Needing a distraction, Matthew busied himself with food preparation, deciding on pancakes because he could make them perfectly without even really trying anymore, thanks to Alfred's bottomless gut and his own addiction to maple syrup. He noted as Gilbert walked unsteadily into the room, the Canadian pausing to help him into a seat. It was kind of hard not to, considering what he was wearing. Matthew found himself struck speechless by Gilbert's attire. The pale man wore one of Matthew's oldest sweaters, the pale blue material of it was fuzzy and soft from time and constant use. It hung off of Gilbert's lean frame, the hem of it hitting Gilbert mid thigh. He decided upon no pants, his slim legs bare. Matthew didn't see any hints of an undergarment so he decided it was a safe bet to assume that Gilbert was going commando. Socks adorned the shark's feet, the left one a black knee high and the right was an ankle sock with SpongeBob SquarePant print all over it(a gag gift from Alfred).

"No pants?', Matthew arched a brow as Gilbert settled into his seat.

"No pants.", Gilbert stated firmly, "It doesn't feel good against my skin and my fin gets in the way.".

"Fair enough. Aren't you hot in that?", Matthew asked, a touch curious until an idea kicked his lobe. If he wasn't careful, Gilbert might decide to take everything off and then he would only be dressed in socks and Matthew would be screwed…in so many different ways.

"No, I like this thing. It smells like you.", Gilbert smiled, snuggling up with the sweater that was far too big for him as he leaned over the counter to do so. Matthew watched and wondered as the shark began to fall back asleep again right there in that odd position. How long and how often did Gilbert sleep in a day?

Making a mental note to ask Gilbert that question later, Matthew assembled the pancakes, putting plenty of butter and maple syrup on them. "Wake up. I got food for you.", Matthew placed the plate in front of Gilbert to no reaction on the shark man's part. Matthew nibbled his bottom lip, thinking maybe he should have made something else perhaps….Like bacon or something meat based. Maybe fish? What did Gilbert's people eat?

While Matthew pondered these life mysteries, Gilbert's nostrils flared, the shark picking up the scent of pure deliciousness. He popped up in his seat, startling Matthew as he watched the shark home in on the food as if it were blood. Matthew jumped back as Gilbert attacked the pile of pancakes face first, gulping down the hot cakes nearly whole in large ravenous bites. When the food wasn't hitting his mouth fast enough, Gilbert used his claws to shovel the rest in. Matthew remembered to click his jaw shut when Gilbert started to lick the plate clean, his long tongue obscenely pink against the porcelain.

"That was awesome! Is there more!? I want more!", Gilbert demanded, looking around with wide red eyes as he searched the countertops for hidden pancakes.

"Yeah…ok…..just give me a minute, I'll make you some more.", Matthew managed out slowly. Gilbert was covered in syrup and soggy remnants of dearly departed pancakes, looking stickier and stickier with every passing moment. "I guess I'll have to teach you about silverware and table manners."

"What's that?", Gilbert asked in a worried tone. He didn't like the sound of either. He liked the thin pieces of metal placed in front of him even less, Gilbert bending over the fork and knife to sniff at them curiously. "What is this Scheiße? Tiny weapons?".

"For food maybe.", Matthew chuckled, creating his own stack and another one for Gilbert. "All you have to do….NO! PUT THE FORK DOWN! DON'T CHEW ON IT!". It was too late. The utensil was already badly scoured and ruined beyond use from the shark's razor teeth.

"This doesn't taste good at all. It's worse than the pillows. Why am I supposed to eat it with the fluffy stuff?", Gilbert scrunched up his face in obvious distaste at the twisted metal in his hand. Having no use for it, he threw the former fork over his shoulder and dug his talons back into the pancakes, shoveling food into his mouth again.

Sighing, Matthew used his own silverware properly to eat his pancakes and tried to ignore the disgusting sounds Gilbert was making while eating his breakfast. "You are going to have to take a bath. You'll get syrup on everything and I'll have to wash those clothes now.".

Done much sooner with his meal, Gilbert watched Matthew eat his own at a far more sedate pace. "Is that what silverware is for?", Gilbert asked dolefully, looking down at himself. He found a lot of tasty crumbs there, clinging wetly to the sweater. Gilbert carefully licked them off, staying mindful of his teeth lest he destroy his new favorite piece of clothing.

"Yeah, kind of. It helps keep you clean.", Matthew explained, finished up to collect both of their plates.

"Am I going to like this bath thing?", Gilbert resigned himself to the strange rituals of surface world. It all seemed unnecessarily complicated to him.

"You should. It involves water.", Matthew smiled, dumping the dishes into the sink to do later. He took Gilbert's hand and led him to the bathroom. On the short way there, Matthew ended up almost falling over his feet as he realized something.

It was a safe bet that Gilbert didn't know how to take a bath.

That, and Gilbert would have to be naked…again.

"Oh Maple."


	4. Chapter 4

Violin  
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOO

Matthew started playing. He had not done so in a while so he was a touch nervous. It didn't help that Gilbert was staring at him with too wide eyes, his scarlet gaze captured by the rise and fall of the bowstring. The melody of the song was low and sweet, an old sea chanty about lost loves and such. Matthew couldn't remember the words to it but it didn't seem to matter. Gilbert was transfixed.

The shark man crawled closer, reaching out a tentative hand toward the instrument. His talons clicked against the polished amber wood. Matthew had to stop playing though in fear of hitting Gilbert. The shark was not pleased by this, his head whipping around to give Matthew a mournful, confused look.

"Why did you stop?", Gilbert demanded. He practically climbed up into Matthew's lap to study the instrument and the absence of music coming from it.

"I can't play with you so close. Sit back down and be good. I'll finish the song.", Matthew said, trying to keep his blush at bay.

Even though he was clothed in long sleeved sweater, Gilbert still refused to wear pants or even underwear for that matter. It was getting all too warm in Matthew's lap and not all of it was from body heat. Thankfully for Matthew's unraveling nerves, the shark slinked back down to the floor though he was pouting now.

"Fine.", Gilbert huffed as he looked up at Matthew expectantly.

The lighthouse keeper sighed but resumed playing. He found that the longer he played, the more the words of the song came back to him. Throwing caution and embarrassment to the wind, Matthew started to sing low and sweet along the violin, the words mingling seamlessly with the notes. He realized he must have closed his eyes at some point because they flew open at a new unidentifiable sound. It grumbled with depth but not unpleasantly. It was similar to the bass keening of whales in a way but not inhibited by tons of water. It only took Matthew a second to locate the source of it, Gilbert humming along with him and the violin. The shark swayed in place as he did so, the melody moving him. Like all good things though, the song had to end as Matthew brought it to a close with regret.

"Was that alright?", Gilbert asked oddly hesitant, looking up at Matthew with what he could only call a nervousness that didn't suit him.

"Yes, of course! Why wouldn't it be? I mean it's alright if you don't know the words. I just remembered them myself.", Matthew said quickly. He watched as Gilbert seemed to sigh and his whole being sag with relief.

"I wasn't allowed to with my pod. Music is considered sacred among my kind." Gilbert explained with a shrug.

Matthew was reminded harshly how different their two worlds were as his mind clouding with anger. Gently, Matthew put down his violin lest he break it and placed his hands on either side of Gilbert's face so that the shark would look up at him.

"You have a beautiful voice. You can sing whenever you want with me.", Matthew told him, his voice soft but sincere.

The smile he got in return was as precious as the song they had just shared together. Matthew promised himself that there would be many more from this point on.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOO  
Sweater  
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOO

Of late, Matthew had been putting in long hours before the winter months took a firm hold of the shoreline. One would think that the life of a lighthouse keeper would be a simple one. The assumption being that one simply walked up a flight of stairs and checked upon the life saving bulb there, changed it out when necessary, repeat daily. The reality of it was so much more though. For one thing, there was the upkeep of the tall conical building itself. Salt life wore upon the fixture, corroding metal, scrubbing paint from stone, and staining glass fixtures opaquely with crystalline swirls upon its surface like unmelting frost.

Matthew had spent the better part of a good week overhauling the outside of the lighthouse, giving the ancient stone building a fresh coat of red and white paint. The many metal fixtures had been carefully polished until they gleamed darkly with oil and care. All the glass had taken an entire day to do which one would not think given there were few windows in a lighthouse. The topmost enclosure sparkled like a diamond though by the time Matthew was done with it.

Unfortunately, this kind of work left very little time to spend with a certain shark man that now lived with Matthew. Gilbert took it with surprisingly good grace the first couple of days, the aquatic native content to return to his true form and environment to watch Matthew work on the outside of his home. It amused Matthew as well to watch a now familiar pale form dart in and out of the waves all around his little island. Gilbert would even make himself useful by finding clams, gathering them up into a bag of netting he had made by cleverly braiding seaweed together. The shark man had started to bring Matthew more and more food upon discovering that the culinary talented human could make the seafood into tastier versions of itself. Clam chowder was quickly becoming a favorite of Gilbert's.

The lighthouse keeper started to notice his shark man was sulking near the end of the week, Gilbert centralizing his moping in bed covered from head to toe in all of Matthew's thick covers and even some of his more fluffy sweaters. He could only be prodded out of bed with promises of soup and buttered bread. Matthew observed that the more depressed Gilbert become, the more he took to his true form. It was not uncommon now for Matthew to uncover a tail in his bed where a pair of legs should have been or find the shark man under the bed curled up bodily around Matthew's pillow(one of the few that remained) with his fins covered in dust bunnies.

Today was no exception it would seem. Matthew had spent the morning putting the last few touches on his cleaning and he was well satisfied with it as he surveyed his tiny kingdom. Everything from floor to roof practically gleamed with cleanliness from all his many efforts. It left Matthew with a good feeling of fulfillment. It also left him filled with exhaustion that dropped upon him like a ton of bricks.

With his body threatening to give up the ghost if he didn't allow it to rest, Matthew trudged his way to bed to find it empty. A quick glance under the bed located his unusual bed mate snoozing. Matthew let Gilbert keep the pillow not having it in him to fight for it. With a sigh, Matthew fished out a hidden pillow from his closet. He had stocked up the last time he was in the seaside village though the checkout girl had given him an odd look for purchasing so many. Matthew wasn't about to explain to her about why it was necessary though or about Gilbert's odd pension for devouring pillows when he got bored and/or hungry. The exhausted lighthouse keeper's head barely hit the pillow before he passed out.

Gilbert woke up from his nap with a sharp snap of jaws. He reminded himself in time not to take out his waking irritation out upon the pillow. Matthew was strangely attached to the bags of feathers for some reason. This particular pillow was only spared a fateful death via razor sharp teeth because it smelled like Matthew, all sweet from the shampoo the human insisted that they use upon their hair and musky from the sweat of sleep and other nightly activities.

Though he knew Matthew was busy doing what was necessary, it didn't make Gilbert miss him any less. It was hard being jealous of an uncaring building though, especially one that Matthew lavished all his time upon when he could be paying attention to Gilbert. He had tried so hard to be patient and keep himself busy in the ocean but as the days passed with little time spent in Matthew's company, Gilbert had retreated to the comforts of bed, even letting his control slip while in it. Legs were great and all for getting around on land but his tail was so much more comfortable. As long as he held off on forming his gills while topside having a tail on land was manageable if he didn't have to move too far from or off the bed.

Waking up more by several degrees, Gilbert realized there was a warm body over him on top of the mattress. Dragging himself out from under the bed, Gilbert peeked over the edge to find a sleeping Matthew. Moving far more quietly with a heavy tail than one would assume, Gilbert climbed up to seat himself with great care beside Matthew's slumbering form. The shark man noted with disapproval the dark bags under his human's eyes and the lines in his face from being out in the cold and salt filled wind. He knew he should be good and let Matthew sleep in peace but Gilbert was never one to deny himself anything for long. He did the next best thing and compromised.

Shifting carefully as to not disturb his human, Gilbert moved to situate himself between Matthew's legs so that he could lay down on top of him and listen to the keeper's heartbeat. It was comfortable enough there laying chest to chest, his face hovering over Matthew's so that the shark man could watch his beloved human sleep, the thin lid of his eyes fluttering delicately from deep dreams. Gilbert hoped he was a part of those fleeting figments. After a few minutes of this though, Gilbert decided it wasn't enough. He needed more but had to take it without waking Matthew up.

Gilbert grumped as he thought about his dilemma, letting his fingers curl into the softness that was Matthew's sweater. The garment had a surprising plushness to it that appealed to Gilbert which was bad for Matthew in the long run who kept losing his sweaters to the shark man. Gilbert was picky about his clothing, refusing to wear pants or any undergarments meant for the legs. The concession for this was that the shark man willingly wore shirts that hit him about mid thigh due to the difference in their height and bulk. Clothing that fit Matthew tended to swallow up Gilbert's more slender form.

The sweater that was currently charming Gilbert with its alluring texture had been recently unearthed from the back of Matthew's closet. Apparently it had been a gift from Alfred, Matthew's twin brother, and one that Matthew was not particularly fond of due to the angry cat face embroidered upon it. The color of it was nice enough though to wear and really Matthew didn't have a choice in the matter until he went back into town to restock his dwindling wardrobe. Gilbert not only preferred to wear Matthew's clothing, he also made little nests with them to sleep in. Matthew would find it creepy if it wasn't so endearing especially after Gilbert explained why he did so. Matthew's scent was a source of calm in this foreign environment and the only thing that could make Gilbert relax enough to sleep in it(though beds didn't hurt either).

Inspiration struck Gilbert with a force strong enough he almost laughed out loud with cocky triumph. Sliding down his human's body, Gilbert implemented his plan easily enough and all without waking Matthew up. Within minutes, the shark man fell asleep himself with a hidden smile upon his lips.

Matthew awoke several hours later feeling refreshed yet oddly heavy. Upon further waking, he realized he had a blanket of shark flesh over him. He couldn't see it though due to the lump in his belly, Gilbert's head fitted snuffly under Matthew's sweater with his face pressed into the lighthouse keeper's belly. Matthew considered moving for a moment as he counted the warm breathes the moved over his skin and ignored the warm drool that was pooling in his belly button. Gilbert's arms were around his hips in a tight grip and the shark man was sandwiched between his legs so if Matthew were to get up, he would be taking Gilbert with him into waking. This would not be a problem usually but Gilbert had a bad habit of snapping his teeth when he first woke up, those pointed porcelain currently being pressed into the soft flesh of Matthew's belly.

So Matthew made a wise decision, one that he was well pleased with after much consideration.

He went back to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

To say that the bath did not go well would be a severe understatement. To say that the bath went over as well as say putting your head between your knees during a nuclear fallout would be more far accurate. Matthew was a little surprised to say none the least by the sheer calamity of it all. He had thought that Gilbert would take to baths like…..well…a fish to water.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOO

While Gilbert tested out his new legs further by stumbling around the tiny adjoined living room, Matthew busied himself in the bathroom filling the old freestanding, porcelain fixture with hot water. After some thought, Matthew added some bubble bath to it, a sudsy solution making the water a bright cerulean in color and filling the rim to the top with soft pastel blue hued foam that threatened to overwhelm the tub with its mountainous peaks.

The bubble bath had been a gift from Matthew's twin, Alfred. His brother had a strange knack for getting Matthew odd things, most of which he had no use for. He had a strong suspicion Alfred was a 3am shopper with a tendency to bestow the fruits of his buyer's remorse upon Matthew. It was one of the reasons Matthew was the not-so-proud owner of a leopard print snuggie, the offending garment currently at the bottom of his closet under a mess of other clothing from Alfred that Matthew could never bring himself to throw out. Considering he now had a shark man who was in need of clothing, was picky about what he wore, and didn't know anything about human fashion or concepts like good taste, Matthew was grateful he had a use for them now especially upon finding out what Gilbert thought about pants.

The jeans that Matthew had tried to push upon Gilbert where strewed about his bedroom in tiny little, bite sized pieces of denim. The boxers had suffered a similar fate though oddly enough only the crotch of them was torn out. Matthew tried not dwell on this too much as he disposed of the ruined garments.

The sound of a body hitting tile reminded Matthew that he had a clumsy shark man still learning his land legs and who was in desperate need of a bath due to his new profound love for all things maple syrup. Matthew found Gilbert picking himself off of the floor, all the while trying to take off his socks at the same time. Neither ideas were working out for him as Gilbert's backside met the hard surface of the tile again.

"Damn it! Why do you wear these things!?", Gilbert swore at his socks, the soft cotton material sticking to the rough skin of his oddly shaped feet like Velcro. After one last attempt to take the offending footwear off, Gilbert rectified the situation by simply putting his feet in his mouth, one after the other, to shred the sock off of each foot in a more delicate manner than Matthew thought was possible. The lighthouse keeper got a bad feeling that a good number of his clothing would be meeting this sort of fate if he didn't do something about it now.

The impressive display of flexibility also gave Matthew a front row show of what lay between Gilbert's legs and the lighthouse keeper was once again reminded of the shark man's total lack of modesty and his personal hefty wealth. In a remarkable show of self control, Matthew stared up at the ceiling and thought about hockey until Gilbert was done.

Feeling sheepish, like he was training a bad puppy instead of an intelligent mythological creature his own size, Matthew lightly swatted the back of Gilbert's head to get his attention. "Stop doing that. I don't have an infinite amount of clothing. You can't keep eating it all just because you don't like it or refuse to take the time to take it off.", Matthew told him, trying for a stern tone but failed miserably in the face of a surprisingly impressive pout. Gilbert was looking up at Matthew with wide ruby eyes and a soul deep, contemplative expression. Matthew had thought Alfred's soulful puppy dogs eyes were the end all, be all but Gilbert crushed than idea effortlessly with one poignant look of crimson that was as deep and wide as the sea.

"They started it first.", Gilbert said, peeling a stubborn piece of sock carcass off of his foot to show it to Matthew. "Those things you call 'pants' and 'underwear' did the same thing to my ass and legs. They deserved to die for being so uncomfortable.".

Matthew had to turn away as his treacherous mind pictured the dearly departed jeans gripping the contours of Gilbert's lean backside and long, slender legs. For having only recently acquired legs, Gilbert had a beautiful pair. Parts of Matthew's darker nature where beginning to agree that ,yes, those pant, if not all pants that dared to grope that pale skin, deserved to be chewed up into tiny bits.

"Y-your bath is ready.", Matthew stammered, feeling his face go red as little visions of Gilbert struggling to take his pants off danced around in the Canadian's head.

"What's a bath? And why are you all red again? Is this a human thing? Should I be concerned?", Gilbert asked, picking himself off of the floor with unsteady balance that he grounded with some flailing of arms and general cursing at gravity.

Needing a moment to compose himself, Matthew waved Gilbert off toward the bathroom with the promise of fresh towels. When he felt that Gilbert was safe, Matthew returned to the bathroom to find the shark man not in the tub but staring at the fixture with a look akin to one watching a killer whale eating a baby seal.

"What is the matter? Why aren't you in the tub?", Matthew asked. Everything looked fine to him as he watched sweet smelling steam rise up from the foamy bath.

"You want me to get into that?!", Gilbert pointed at the bathtub with a potent mixture of disgust and disbelief. "Into that cess pool?".

"Hardly. I clean regularly.", Matthew said in defense, slightly taken aback. He had always felt his lighthouse was in good order. If not anything, he always had plenty of time to clean.

"What do you call that scum on top? It's blue.", Gilbert curled his lip at the mounds of bubbles. A few popped themselves in defense under his contemptuous gaze.

"We call it soap. Get in.", Matthew sighed to be given a wide eyed, aghast look back. "I promise you'll like it. It's just water with a little bit of cleaner in it. You are not going to run around here all sticky. And to be a little honest, you kinda smell.". Matthew felt bad for bringing it up. Gilbert didn't smell bad per say, more like a mixture of salty and organic, like seaweed that had been left out in the sun too long. It was just little odd and a bit cloying.

"Fine.", Gilbert huffed, starting to get into the tub. He wanted his mate to be pleased with him. If Matthew wanted him to take this crazy thing called 'bath', Gilbert would do his best to appease him.

"Whoa there! You have to get undressed. You can't wear your clothes in.", Matthew halted him in time.

"Why not? They're sticky too.", Gilbert asked perplexed. He didn't want to take off the clothing. It smelled too much like Matthew to do so without some sort of resistance.

"That's not how we wash clothing here. We do it separately. Bathwater can ruin them.", Matthew explained, gesturing to Gilbert to give him his sweater.

"That seems unnecessary and complicated.", Gilbert grumbled, peeling the sweater off. It vexed him to do so but all of Matthew's clothing smelled liked him so Gilbert was sure he would be able to find something suitable to replace it.

Matthew's breath caught in his throat. The shark man was really uninhibited, standing before him with a causal grace in all his nude splendor. Gilbert also had so concept of personal space as he leaned up against Matthew for balance, the line of his thigh and all the lay between his legs pressed up on line with Matthew's own. "Can I get in now or is there some other weird human ritual I have to do?", Gilbert huffed, interrupting the few remaining brain cells that still worked for Matthew.

"Please do.", Matthew said quickly, just a hair short of begging. For what, Matthew had no idea. His shoulders sagged in relief and some minor disappointment as Gilbert did as he asked for once without further distractions or complaints.

Gilbert's bath lasted all of two seconds, the first of which involved him slipping in under the water in one smooth movement and the next was of him removing himself from it with enough force to spray Matthew and all of the rest of the bathroom with hot soapy water.

"Scheiße! Ficken! Schwanzlutscher! What the hell?!", Gilbert yelled, rolling around on the towels Matthew had dropped onto the floor in his surprise and shower mat as if he were on fire. Before Matthew could voice his concern about this, he found his arms suddenly very full of moist angry shark man who was quite busy biting the air at the tub with his razor sharp teeth.

"What?!", Matthew gaped, ignoring all the water dripping onto him. "What's wrong?".

"Everything!", Gilbert growled, turning his attention back to Matthew to glare at the lighthouse keeper. "Are you trying to cook me?! And why would you use such filthy bad water on me?!".

"Bad water? I'm sorey but I have no idea what you are talking aboot.", Matthew shook his head, trying to put Gilbert down. It was a futile effort. Gilbert clung to him with all the tenacity of a barnacle.

"It is the water that falls from the sky. It comes in on with dark skies and winds that stirs up the ocean's surface. It's disgusting.", Gilbert clarified, rubbing his cheeks against Matthew's own in an effort to get it off of him. The motions were enough to distract Matthew and make his brain stop functioning for a minute.

"Oh, you mean rain.", Matthew worked out for himself, Gilbert's words finally finding some sort of purchase in context though it was an effort. "Fresh water? You don't like fresh water? Water with no salt?". Matthew was somewhat proud of himself for being able to string those half sentences together considering Gilbert was basically using his clothes while he was still in them to dry himself off.

"Ja. It's tainted.", Gilbert paused in his efforts to nod sagely at the befuddled Canadian. He was bathing in Matthew's scent, his nose resting against Matthew's scent, his rough tongue lapping at the salt there like a cat to cream.

"I'm sorey about that. I didn't know.", Matthew said shakily, trying and failing to think about hockey with Gilbert clinging to him like the floor was made of lava and licking his throat. "You have to let me go if you want me to fix this.". Much to Matthew's relief and discontent, Gilbert did so after a moment of consideration and one final lap at his Adam's apple.

Under the shark man's watchful eye, Matthew drained and cleaned out the tub before refilling it with cold water. After some rummaging in his kitchen, Matthew found a container of sea salt to add to the bath. Gilbert tested the water by tasting it, occasionally telling Matthew to add more until he was satisfied.

With a sigh of relief, Gilbert slipped into the frigid water. His legs slid under the surface to reemerge as a full tail again. Matthew gasped from the change despite himself, though he chided himself for doing so, in all fairness it had only been a day. If anyone told him yesterday morning that he would have a mythological creature taking a salt soak in his bathtub after eating most of his pillows, Matthew would have called them crazy(after asking them why they were there and how they found him) and gone about his day laughing about it in remembrance. At least Gilbert technically wasn't naked anymore though the tail was some rise for concern.

"Will that happen every time you touch salt water?", Matthew asked, his gaze lingering over the impressive length of the silvery white tail with all its stripes and scars.

"Nein. Only if I let my control slip.", Gilbert shrugged, his tail twitching. "Having legs hurts."

"Doesn't changing hurt worse?", Matthew asking, remembering the night before. He felt like he should leave and give Gilbert some privacy but the shark man didn't know about human courtesies or look uncomfortable that Matthew was near him bathing so he stayed.

Busying himself to ignore the feeling that he was doing something naughty, Matthew dipped a washcloth into the frigid water, feeling salt cling to his skin. He gently started to wipe down Gilbert's arms and shoulders, the shark man leaning into the touch. Matthew had to assume he didn't mind, especially when Gilbert started to smile up at him.

"Not with practice.", Gilbert hummed happily, letting his head rest against the rim of the tub to watch Matthew clean off his pale skin. "You like touching me.", he observed with a note of delight in his gruff voice. Matthew almost dropped the washcloth in surprise at the statement. He considered stopping altogether but Gilbert didn't sound or look upset. If anything, he seemed curious and a little too please with himself.

"Yes. Yes I do.", Matthew admitted through the firestorm of his embarrassment, staring at Gilbert's elbow as if it were a lifeline.

"Is that why you keep turning red? Are you trying to tell me that you want to mate?", Gilbert grinned, showing off a lot of his impressive teeth.

This time the wash cloth managed not only to be dropped but flung high overhead with a squeak of surprise that Matthew would deny later making. "No! No….I…um…..", Matthew fumbled for words, "Do you want me to stop?".

"Nein!", Gilbert said a little too quickly to hide the note of desperation in his voice. He sunk down into the water to hide his own growing embarrassment. "Nein…..It's nice.", he added weakly with a quiet voice, having a lack of vocabulary means to voice just how 'nice' it felt to him, to be cared for and touched lovingly for once by another being.

"Oh good…..", Matthew muttered, retrieving the discarded washcloth so that both of them would not be caught in a moment of awkward silence. "Would it be alright if I washed your hair?".

"Ja, I guess. Why?", Gilbert looked up at his silvery locks that were all stiffly clumped together by salt.

"It's what you do with hair.", Matthew shrugged helplessly, unable to come up with a more viable reason other than he wanted another excuse to keep touching Gilbert. "Give me a moment.", Matthew said, struck by an idea. The lighthouse keeper left Gilbert to his own devices to quickly retrieve a bucket and prepare some more cold saltwater in it for rinse. Making Gilbert wet his hair by dunking himself under the water, Matthew congratulated himself for investing in expensive but totally all natural shampoo and conditioner. A lifetime of Alfred's taunting about him being a picky little girly was made completely worth it for this moment as Matthew dragged his fingers through sodden silken locks the color of pewter now. The moan of pure pleasure he drew from Gilbert's too pale lips went straight through Matthew, causing warmth to pool low and sweet in his belly as inner muscles twitched with anticipation.

"Smells nice.", Gilbert gasped between wide grins, the shark man drowning in nerve tingling bliss as fingernails ran over the curve of his scalp. The rosemary orange blossom shampoo wafted and mingled with the lingering notes of salt, Matthew making himself pull back to rinse before he was beyond the point of gone. Not helping in this delicate matter, Gilbert tried to follow Matthew's fingers, lifting himself out of the tub by his forearms before a gentle hand on his shoulder pressed him gently back in. It was a beautiful moment for them both, one of wanting and receiving. Or it was….

In hindsight, Matthew blamed that moment for his lapse in judgment and his lack of instruction or recalling that Gilbert had never had his hair washed before.

Matthew picked up the bucket with shaky hands to pour the rinse water over Gilbert's head, remembering belated to tell the shark man to close his eyes. An ear splitting scream, most of which was cast too high for actual human hearing, was a good reminder to all present that shampoo, organic or not, stings like a bitch when it hits the open eye.

Matthew dropped the bucket to clamp his hands over his ears in an attempt to save his hearing as all the glass in the bathroom shattered at once in fine diamond like sprays. An even louder cracking forced its way through Matthew's meager protection, one that demanded his attention. Making himself stand up under the vocal onslaught, Matthew watched as Gilbert thrashed around in the tub, his tail flailing against the sides of the ancient tub, the abuse devastating the porcelain coating in large chunks to reveal the cast iron underneath.

"Gilbert calm down! It's only soap…", Matthew managed to yell before the real screaming started, this time with notes of true terror and naked pain in it. Seeking escape from the burning in his eyes, the shark man had ducked his head underneath the surface of the salt water to cleanse his sight. Just as the pain began to recede, Gilbert became aware of another, one far more intense as it poisoned the water with its near presence. It made itself recognize when his tail came in contact with a bare patch of iron.

The shark man could hear his scales being seared off and his naked flesh burned upon the fatal metal, iron being the bane of his people's existence. The weakness was one of the few traits that they shared with mermaids and sirens alike, all sea creatures repulsed by the gray metal's presence and agonized by its contact. It only took Gilbert a seconds to realize that he was surrounded by deadly iron sheathed in an all too thin barrier of porcelain, one that was disintegrating with every movement from his body.

If one thing could be said about Gilbert, it was that he was a survivor and a survivor had to be fast, mentally and physically. In the game of the quick or the dead, Gilbert ignored the pain that wracked his body and the fear that threatened to blind his mind. Grabbing at a remaining patch of porcelain and using his tail as leverage, Gilbert flipped himself out of the tub to belly flop onto the tile with a pain filled groan.

"Mon Dieu! Are you alright?!", Gilbert could hear Matthew ask, though it only danced on the edges of his perception. "What is wrong?!".

"Iron…..poison….", Gilbert murmured into the tile, not even sure if Matthew could hear him. The shark was aware that his body left the coolness of the floor in an instant and that he was moving through the air at an impressive speed. Curious about the nature of this, Gilbert cracked his eyes with some effort to find the scenery flying past him. With a weak turn of his head, he found that he could look up at Matthew, the lighthouse keeper wearing a worried but determined look upon his face. Gilbert closed his eyes again though upon smelling the stench of his burns and the char of his own flesh. He could already feel his body going into numb shock from the iron's poisoning.

A beat that rocked his body and seemed to synchronize with the rhythm of his own slowing heart was Matthew's footfalls, the lighthouse keeper running toward the sea with Gilbert in his arms. The tempo deepened when his feet hit the dock, the wood adding a mellow bass to the man's frantic run. Matthew didn't even pause as he reached the end of all things considered land and let himself fall into the sea with Gilbert. It had never crossed his mind that he should have let go.

The water was cold, colder than Matthew would have ever expected but then he wasn't in the habit of taking ocean swims during winter's coming. It was a sensation sharp enough to make his chest tighten up and steal his breath away which was a bad thing for any human to do while underwater. As Matthew lost air to swallow down ocean cocktail, he realized he had somehow lost Gilbert in the course of his plunge.

Vertigo, freezing water, and a growing sense of desperation all worked against Matthew as he swam about in what felt like a void. He had lost his glasses at some point, not that they would have been useful with everything cast in shades of fathomless grays and blues. It was dark and light so shattered, he couldn't tell which way was up or down or if this was even real anymore. It was at that point Matthew realized he was all out of air and even more so, time as sea current reached up with ice edged fingers to embrace him and pull Matthew down further into its frigid depths.

Matthew found his decent was abruptly halted though as something brushed up against his body. When fingers found the sides of his face to cup it, Matthew felt it was his dying duty to at least award whatever or whoever had noticed his plight by opening his eyes. His vision was filled with crimson, so much so that Matthew thought wildly for a moment that he was bleeding out on top of drowning. The red resolved itself though a moment later, Gilbert drawing back far enough to be recognized now by Matthew's waning consciousness. He looked well enough, his iron burned skin whole once again. Matthew closed his eyes with a liquid sigh of relief that his last wild assumption had panned out so well. Gilbert had looked so ruined after he managed to escape the tub, his pale skin covered from tail tip to shoulder blade with ragged open sores than bled watery blood all over the bathroom's tiled floor. It had been some sort of instinct, some hunch old and ancient, a memory bred into his bones or a lost truth seared into his marrow perhaps, that had made Matthew run with Gilbert in his arms toward the sea.

Just as he was about to give up the ghost to the deep, Matthew felt his body being dragged upward with a force that he could only describe later on as 'tidal wave-ish'. He blamed the oxygen deprivation for the use of such weak adjectives but still felt it was fitting. The pressing rush of water against his skin ended abruptly as Matthew felt himself go airborne. The lighthouse keeper could only imagine the sea spitting him out like some unsavory piece of food. He would have laughed at the mental imagery if he could have, damn dying slowly by inches and all.

The impact against soil was enough to jar Matthew even in his weakened, barely conscious state. It was then he realized that he was no longer suspended in sea water as crisp air pressed up against his skin, almost as closely as the shark man who loomed over him. Gilbert was saying something to him over and over again, all the while rubbed his chest in circular motions with his free hand.

"Matthew, please breathe.", Gilbert was begging him, drops of water dripping off him face. The fact that they were warm were the only indication that they were tears. Matthew felt bad for making Gilbert cry and wondered what he could do to make him stop.

Whatever Gilbert was doing with his hand, whether is was magic or desperation, it wasn't CPR but it was just as effective. Matthew spewed at a truly impressive amount of saltwater out of his lungs and onto his chest to replace the liquid with greedy gulps of sweet air.

"Matt! Are you alive!?", Gilbert demanded, though open relief was already etched into every feature. Matthew nodded weakly back, forcing his eyes to stay open even though he was dead tired. Nearly drowning will tend to do that to one.

"Gil….", Matthew rasped out, his throat feeling raw and burned from salt and bile.

"Ja?"

"I think it's safe to say that we will be taking showers from now on."

Gilbert nodded back with a wide grin of something between relief and joy. Matthew smiled weakly back, wondering if he could make it back to the lighthouse on his own two feet or if he would have to rely on Gilbert's unsteady own…..if he could get the shark man to change his tail back into legs. To his muted surprise, Matthew found that he really couldn't care less about it though at the moment, idea about walking for another time. The lighthouse keeper laid back on the rock with his shark man above him and enjoyed the simple yet complex sensations of just being alive, of being savior and saved, of being in love and beloved. Matthew's epiphany and their mutual moment of peace together only lasted a few seconds.

"What's a shower?".


	6. Chapter 6

Due to the nature of Matthew's home and its isolated location, it was needless to say that he did not expect visitors often, as in at all. For the most part, people didn't pop in on him for a casual chat. Hell, Matthew had a running bet with himself that even his own superiors wouldn't remember that he was here manning the lighthouse if it weren't for his constant reports and meticulous weather updates.

It wasn't that he was antisocial. Matthew lived on a wind swept island mostly made of rock with very little flora upon it so he didn't even get the occasional wayward nature loving tourist. Toss in a channel of constantly rough sea that even the most seasoned fisherman wouldn't bother with half the time and it was very safe to say that Matthew was pretty much on his own, slowly growing crazy with loneliness and tossing messages in bottles at the sea.

That was until Gilbert showed up in his life with Matthew's bottles in tow.

By strange circumstances that no one could have predicted, Matthew found that he suddenly had a roommate of sorts, one that ate his pillows to play in their feathers and refused to wear pants but loved hoarding Matthew's sweaters for his own. It didn't hurt matters either that Gilbert was uniquely attractive, as beautiful as he was strange, with blood red eyes, silver hair, and skin too pale to be real.

From time to time, Matthew woke up in the middle of the night so that he could just stare at his bedmate bathed in the soft nighttime light of moons and stars and little else to reassure himself that it was not some dream or delusion he had created for himself to survive his aching solitude.

Sometimes Matthew would even give in to temptation and stroke the shark man's sides, letting his fingers trail down from sharply pronounced ribs to misshaped taloned feet. Matthew loved to feel the change in textures as his fingertips lingered over the plush softness of winter skin of Gilbert's human like torso before it merged into the sandpapery roughness of his tail that remained on the outside of Gilbert's legs but receded back to baby softness on the inside portions of them.

Tracing designs along the lithe flesh, Matthew would marvel at all the stripes and more than a few scars that decorated those lengthy appendages, slashes of soft pewter set against gleaming silvery white and all the fine muscles that lay underneath that. A product of his watery environment and subject to constant motion, Gilbert's body was all sinewy with lean, compact muscles and not a speck of spare fat upon his frame. Matthew especially loved the jut of his hipbones, so sharp and defined it looked carved from marble.

His explorations never went unnoticed. Matthew couldn't fool himself that they were. Whether by inborn instinct from being a predator or a naturally light sleeper, Gilbert's eyes were always open and focused by the time Matthew had felt his fill. At first it had unnerved him, of being caught in the act of exploration as innocent as it was, the lighthouse keeper blushing a dark color from his embarrassment while apologizing profusely until webbed fingers were pressed to the tense line of Matthew's lips. Uncharacteristically, Gilbert had said nothing, letting his actions speak for him by reaching out to take Matthew's hands into his clawed own, placing them to his sides in silent permission before going back to sleep or at least feigning so that Matthew felt comfortably enough to continue.

After that, it was pretty much habit now for Matthew to take his time just touching Gilbert and getting used to his presence, his warmth or lack there of, his skin. In his own way, Gilbert returned the favor and took his own liberties with Matthew's body. It was commonplace now in the mornings for Matthew to wake up and find his feet being explored ever so carefully, toe by toe. If Matthew let him, Gilbert would spend all morning studying the lighthouse keeper's feet and hands. It was a good thing that Matthew was not ticklish because Gilbert would stick his fingers between Matthew's toes to wiggle them or run light touches over the arch of his foot.

They settled into a routine of sorts as time went on. As much as he would have liked to focus solely upon Gilbert, Matthew still had a duty to his post which sometimes meant working long hours maintaining the lighthouse itself and its weather detecting equipment. Whenever Matthew worked outside, Gilbert would return to the sea to either play in the waves or simply watch Matthew with a forlorn look, much like a puppy waiting impatiently for its master to come play with him. More often than not, Gilbert would end up entertain himself by finding some sort of food or prize to gift Matthew with. Some of it was hit and miss of course. Sweet baby clams and fish were always well accepted and shared. The octopus was not, especially after it doused Matthew with a face full of ink. Sometimes Gilbert would return with heavy gold coins so old their faces were worn off by time and constantly moving current, or fat creamy pearls in a rainbow of colors, all perfectly formed and as large as marbles.

At first Matthew had grown faint at such costly gifts to the point of almost refusing them until he realized Gilbert didn't care about their value because they were so commonplace for him. It was then Matthew learned that sea people such as sirens and mermaids braided pearls and gold into their hair not because they were precious but because they were shiny and easy to find. It was almost ridiculous the contrast between what humans and sea creatures considered valuable Matthew observed when he was presented with a mirror set in a tarnished silver frame or an old chipped glass bottle with such reverence that he quickly resisted any urge to laugh, and strove to accept each and every mundane item with the high regard it was given in. Matthew kept everything Gilbert gave him on a shelf in the kitchen made of driftwood he had made himself one day while bored. All the gold golds, pearls, and jewels that Gilbert gave him were placed in the worn bottle or in the basins of large shells.

Whenever it rained, Gilbert would stay indoors in what could only be described as a sulk by Matthew. Avoiding the 'bad water' falling from the sky entirely, the shark man would refuse to leave the confines of the bed and only burrow himself deeper within the depths of all the blankets Matthew owned and newly bought pillows until all that could be found was Gilbert's back fin poking out from among the folds. For some reason, Gilbert never liked to have that part of his body covered. Matthew never pressed the matter, figuring it equated to having one leg hanging out of the covers. He found it adorable and made the land shark his phone's new wallpaper

Matthew found himself looking forward to rainy days the most. When he would get done with work, Matthew would join Gilbert in the bed under the covers and in the dark. There the two of them would whisper back and forth to each other for no reason at all, telling stories before falling asleep in each other's arms.

Their time together grew in number as days turned into weeks and weeks turned into a couple of months. On their little island, Matthew and Gilbert lived in a world of their own making, so much so Matthew forgot that the real world could even intrude upon it.

Though Matthew didn't get visitors often as in nearly never, he did get one.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Matthew hadn't been expecting anything unusual or new this morning though to be fair since Gilbert's appearance in his life, Matthew's definition for both words had expanded considerably. When the lighthouse keeper just happened to glance up from his work to reach for his rapidly cooling tea, Matthew certainly hadn't expected to see a boat he didn't recognize anchored at his dock. The boat was built for flash and speed, a little much else. The captain of that particular craft would have to be expertly skilled or completely mad to take that kind of boat onto Matthew's ocean. It was also very red with gold stars painted on its streamlined sides. There was only person that Matthew knew that would shamelessly pilot such a vessel and consider danger clearly for other people.

"Oh…..", Matthew started to say, dropping everything to start running down the long series of spiral stairs that connected all the levels together in his tall home.

"SHIT!", Alfred, Matthew's twin brother and only returning guest, finished for him from somewhere inside the lighthouse. Feeling a day late and a buck short, Matthew's speed doubled as he tried to remember where Gilbert was in the lighthouse. It wasn't raining so the bed was out and Matthew was busy with work so that meant Gilbert would be in the bathroom. The shark man had forgiven the concept of bathing after Matthew purchased a free standing fiberglass basin deep enough for Gilbert to bathe in. Gilbert could fill it up with the shower wand and drain it in the stall if he desired a soak, the shark man preferring to mix up his own bath water now. Of late, he had even started to add bubble bath to it. The thing was though, Gilbert would often lounge in his cold salt water bath with his tail hanging out over the rim. It was a big enough clue for Alfred to figure out that something might not be normal about Gilbert.

The scene was as bad as Matthew could have ever imagined it as he arrived. Alfred stood braced with his military issue Berretta MP, lovingly named Sally, the barrel of which was aimed dead center at Gilbert's head. The shark man had made it out of the tub to tripod up on the floor using his hands and tail. Gilbert's lips were drawn back as far as the flesh would go with his jaw disconnected wider than any human could physically manage. The shark man was baring all of his serrated jagged teeth at Alfred as odd clicking noises grated from his throat, the menace clearly pronounced even if the language was so foreign it was alien to the human ear .

"Alfred F. Jones! Put down your gun this instant!", Matthew said quickly to defuse the situation and threw caution to the wind by putting himself physically between the two. "Gilbert don't you dare….". Matthew never got to finish his sentence as strong hands pulled him down and out of the way behind Gilbert, the shark man curling around Matthew to brace his fall.

"Mattie!", Alfred yelled, rushing forward while still taking aim to no doubt make a rescue attempt.

Knowledgeable about his twin's heroic mindset and quick gun happy reflexes, Matthew did the first thing that came to mind which was to grab Gilbert from behind and pull the shark man into a tight embrace. Torn between the instincts to defend his mate and not hurt him at the same time, Gilbert froze in Matthew's arms, his clicking curses dying in his throat, which was a good thing considering Matthew stuck his hand in Gilbert's mouth.

"Don't shoot! He's not going to hurt me or you!", Matthew explained, really hoping that he didn't lose his hand. He had seen Gilbert tear apart metal silverware like it was made of taffy without even really trying.

"Ummm…..Okay.", Alfred said, unsure but lowered his gun so that it was pointed at the floor. "Uh, you wanna tell me why you got a guy with a tail in your bathtub?".

"It's a long story.", Matthew said shakily, removing his hand with considerable care. Gilbert's teeth were as sharp as they looked. He stood up to greet his brother properly which was a mistake he found out a second later. To any predator, patience was the key to everything and true to his nature, Gilbert struck as soon as he saw an opening, moving faster than Matthew had ever seen him do so before. There was an audible 'SNAP' as Gilbert's jaws neatly wrapped around the barrel of the gun, his white teeth sinking in through the metal like it was made of marshmallow, the mouth daggers neatly clicking together as they met again. Blinking in surprise, Alfred found that he was left with only half a pistol in hand, the other half being spat onto the floor.

"He ate my gun.", Alfred said in a stunned tone, made flat with disbelief.

"Serves you right. I've told you time after time not to bring it here.", was all Matthew could say, his brain going automatically into lecturing rant mode due to his own shock.

"He. Ate. My. Gun.", Alfred annunciated each and every word with great care, lifting the half eaten firearm up for further inspection. The bite was near laser clean if not for the curve of teeth imprints.

"Oui. I see that. It's your own fault. You shouldn't have pointed it at him.", Matthew shrugged, at a loss of what to do. He kept an eye on Gilbert but the shark man was more interested in digging out fragment of metal that had gotten lodged in between his teeth than attacking his brother again.

"Dude! What the fuck!? He ate my gun!", Alfred yelled, jumping up into Matthew's arms. Matthew winced as his back complained about it as he grappled with Alfred's lanky frame. His twin wasn't fat but muscle was heavy and Alfred had a lot of that. It didn't help matters that his brother was still pointing wildly and yelling at Gilbert. "Bad! Bad shark man thing!".

"Yes, I know. I was here.", Matthew told his twin's chest, his face smushed into it, "Stop yelling at him. You're not helping.".

"It tasted awful.", Gilbert supplied, giving Alfred a look of severe distaste as if he had tried to feed it to him. "And spicy.". Gilbert pulled himself over to the tub to start washing his mouth out with salt water.

"That would probably be from the gunpowder. You know you don't like the taste of metal.", Matthew sighed, trying to put Alfred down who was defying basic physics, gravity, and manhandling to stay attached to Matthew.

"Mattie! W.T.F.", Alfred made one last attempt to convey his displeasure about the entire situation to his twin who took the opportunity to drop his ass onto the floor so that he could go over to Gilbert.

"Are your teeth okay?", Matthew asked with a concern that made Alfred gape at him in disbelief.

"Ja. Why wouldn't they be?", Gilbert answered, sounding puzzled. Human teeth in his opinion were silly things and basically useless. He had reasoned out for himself that was why humans needed things like silverware because their silly excuses for teeth were so pathetically brittle.

"Fair enough.", Matthew said, cupping Gilbert's face to turn it toward him. There was some slight irritation around the shark man's gum line from the traces of iron in the gun but other than that he looked fine. Gilbert grinned at the contact, leaning into to make a pleased throaty sounding noise.

"Oh my God! Are you seriously screwing the fish?!", Alfred practically shrieked as he jumped up from the floor, making his twin wince at the volume that echoed in the bathroom's tiled space.

"Alfred! Manners!", Matthew yelping, jerking his hand back from Gilbert as if Alfred had caught him stealing from a cookie jar. Irked by the sudden denial in contact, Gilbert turned to growl at Alfred who promptly raised his ruined gun again until he remembered it was completely useless. He tossed it over his shoulder with a shrug.

"What?! It's a fair question!", Alfred pointed to Gilbert accusingly, "Hey fish stick! Are you boning….Do you even have a penis?".

"ALFRED!", Matthew wanted to die, something more swift and painless than this conversation.

It only got worse. Gilbert chose that moment to split his tail in answer, his transformations impressively smooth now. It also meant that he was completely naked and on full view as he stood up causing Alfred to whistle low. "Wow Mattie, I hope you're topping or at least have some decent cushions cause it looks like you caught yourself a big one.", Alfred said sounding impressed as he tilted his head to the side to take it all in.

"That's it. Everyone in the kitchen! Now!", Matthew snapped, pointing angrily toward the door. "Alfred, no weapons of any kind. I mean it! Gilbert, get dressed! I'm going to go make pancakes!".

"Still a stress baker I see."

"Shut up, Al!"

ooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Feeling a little bit better by the time he was done, Matthew portioned out three high stacks of pancakes, scents of butter and vanilla wafting from them, and set out some softened butter and maple syrup. Gilbert joined the brothers by the time the plates hit the counter, Alfred still moodily considering his ruined firearm or what was left of it. He arched an eyebrow when Matthew set out a container of wet wipes by Gilbert but no fork.

"He doesn't use silverware.", Matthew explained, inwardly cursing Alfred's observational skills. Most of the time, his twin acted like a socially inept bastard, the farce easily fooling others into thinking he was a self-serving idiot. It could be easy to forget sometimes that Alfred was a highly trained specialist, part of the military that was not talked about openly and whose missions were usually executed on a 'need to know' basis.

"I am not allowed to.", Gilbert added. He ate his pancakes a lot more neatly with his claws now than he had done so before. Trail and error had decided that the shark man never use tableware again though. Metal was scoured or sheared in half by Gilbert's teeth no matter carefully the shark man tried to use the pieces of metal. Plastic was a lost cause entirely, just good money after bad.

"Fish stick is short bus special, isn't he?', Alfred said overly sweet, smugly showing off his own use of fork and knife. Gilbert didn't get the reference but knew it was insulting. He glowered at the American but kept eating his food. He could tell Matthew was on edge and an angry Matthew took away all the maple syrup more often than not. Upon that thought, Gilbert quickly dosed his pancakes again with more syrup just to be safe.

"His name is Gilbert and he is a Galeocerdo. He is also my….guest so you will be nice to him or else.". Matthew glared at his twin, pointing his spatula at him as if it were a deadly weapon. Alfred raised his hands in mock surrender, though he now wore a lewd grin.

"Guest? Is that what they are calling it these days? I know I have been out of the loop for a while….", Alfred smirked as he watched Matthew turn a deep shade of red. Alfred trailed off from his teasing though as he noticed something about Gilbert when the shark man shifted in his seat. "Oh c'mon on. He isn't even wearing pants! I can't have a serious conversation about this with some guy's tentacle junk staring back at me."

"Alfred…", Matthew groaned into his hands, leaning up against the counter to cradle his head in near despair.

"But I gotta say, you have to have no gag reflex or something. I mean I don't so maybe it's hereditary.", Alfred rambled on in between bites, ignoring the fact that his twin was slowly dying by inches from intense, painful embarrassment. Matthew was certain Alfred lived for moments like these. "I really can't blame you though. I wouldn't want to get a blowjob either with teeth like that so close to my dick. Seriously, my outie is turning into an innie just thinking about it."

"ALFRED!", Matthew finally snapped, "Too much information!".

"Hey bro, I'm not the one with my fuck buddy's vital regions on display.", Alfred shrugged, "I was apart of 'don't ask, don't tell' so I'm used to keeping it on the DL. Canada truly is a wondrous place of gay. If he doesn't' wear pants has his butt as been on everything? Can I just say 'ew'?".

"I hate you so much. How are we even related?", Matthew despaired into his palms.

"Does that mean I can eat him?", Gilbert offered, licking his plate with great deliberate care. Matthew got annoyed if he scratched up the plates.

"NO!", Alfred and Matthew answered in unison. Gilbert pouted, reaching for Matthew's ignored pancakes. He had to be quick about it though considering Alfred was helping himself to them as well.

"Wait a minute? What do you mean was? You not still with the military?", Matthew asked, his mind slipping past his fog of inner turmoil to catch up with the conversation while somehow remaining unaware of the food theft.

"Nope. You're looking at a free man.", Alfred grinned, soaking his stolen food with maple syrup while Gilbert growled at him.

"But I thought you loved your job.", Matthew pressed, taking the syrup away before annoying people were bitten and certain shark men were smacked with spatulas.

"Yeah, well things change.", Alfred shrugged carelessly, still smiling but Matthew could tell it was all fake now.

"Do you want to talk aboot it?", Matthew offered. "Are you in trouble?"

"No and no. I'm out and that's all that matters.", Alfred's mask slipped a second long enough that Matthew knew that he didn't want to know the specifics of Alfred's early retirement. From he what little he did know from personal observation and fragments of information that Alfred had let slip out about his profession, it had been bloody. Matthew didn't even want to think about what could have made Alfred leave or what he had to do to escape it alive and all in one piece.

"What are you going to do now, eh?", Matthew asked, making his tone light to let his twin know he was fine with him keeping his secrets.

"I have no clue.", Alfred replied merrily though relief tinged his words. "Travel. See new and interesting place and not kill the people who live there."

"So you came here first?", it was Matthew's turn to arch a brow at Alfred. He didn't like the idea of Alfred having a prolonged stay in Canada. He liked his country unmolested and left in one piece. A bored Alfred was terrible thing to inflict upon anyone.

"Yup!", said the knight of cheerful chaos.

"Oh maple….", Matthew sighed, pushing his glasses up onto his forehead so that he could pinch the bridge of his nose. He could already feel a stress headache forming behind his eyes.

"You've been holding out on me, bro! Where did you find him?", Alfred said accusingly, turning his attention back to Gilbert who had been content playing with his sweater's sleeves and eating the fuzz off of them.

"I didn't find Gilbert. He found me and we have you to thank for that.", Matthew said as he collected dirty plates and silverware. He sighed when he came to his own tragically empty plate, not even a crumb of pancake upon it. "Fucken hosers.", he muttered, putting everything in the sink for later. Matthew turned back around to find a pair of scarlet and azure eyes staring at him incredulously.

"We do?", Gilbert growled low.

"You do?", Alfred snorted in disbelief.

"It was your idea for me to put messages in bottles. Don't get pissy because someone found them.", Matthew frowned at his brother.

"It's just further proof that I am a genius.", Alfred broke out into a wide grin, looking far too pleased with himself.

"No, it just proof that you give a monkey enough time and typewriters, he'll bang out something legible.", Matthew rolled his tanzanite eyes.

"Ingrate. I got you a boyfriend. A weird looking one, but you're welcome.", Alfred chuckled, looking over at Gilbert curiously.

"I'm sitting right here. I can hear you, Arschloch.", Gilbert grumbled at him, glaring back.

"You're speaking German and have a German accent.", Alfred observing, his attention turning laser quality with a focus that was disconcerting to Gilbert. He felt he was being sized up by another predator and he didn't like it.

"Ja. So?", Gilbert challenged, drawing his lips back in a caricature of a grin to let his teeth show.

"Why is he speaking German?", Alfred directed his question to Matthew but kept his eyes upon the shark man.

"It's actually Prussian.", Matthew corrected, not liking the strangely tense mood that was developing between the two.

"That doesn't make any sense.", Alfred snorted in disbelief.

"Fick dich.", Gilbert snapped, clicking his teeth in warning at the American.

"He's cussing at me.", Alfred whined, making his tone petulant enough that Matthew threw a dishtowel at his head.

"I have to finish up some work. Will you two please refrain from killing each other until I am done?", Matthew sighed, taking note of the time. "Please? An hour at most. That is all I ask.".

"Maybe.", Alfred shrugged, promising nothing. Gilbert remained cautious in the seat, his teeth still bared at Alfred. Matthew catch his eye, making the shark man answer him in the form of a nod.

With a sigh and prayer, Matthew left their company. Man and shark stared at each other awkwardly for a moment, Alfred toying with his gun's remains already bored.

"So…..can you bite through anything?"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOO  
It was much too quiet Matthew observed as he descended the stair, the absence of bickering and/or fighting sending a chill down the lighthouse keeper's spine. After checking the bedrooms and the bathroom, Matthew returned to the kitchen to find all his company there on the floor the adjoining living room.

"WHAT IN MAPLE DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?!", Matthew yelled to find his kitchen in complete disarray as in destroyed. The island counter had a gaping Gilbert shaped bite mark in it along with several other notable pieces of large furniture. Plates and silverware sat twisted and chewed on top the ruined counter next to canned goods that had been ravaged open to spill their contents everywhere in shades of tomatoes, corn, and green been. The sources of all this destruction were currently sitting in the adjoining living room on the floor amidst an array of various items ranging from sporting items to footwear, over half of them bitten clean through.

"Science!", Alfred countered, handing Gilbert a boot. Matthew recognized it as one of his more expensive pairs, meant for hikes out on the tundra in subzero temperatures. The shark man neatly bit it in half.

"No! What is wrong with you two!? Is nothing sacred!?", Matthew wailed, rushing forward to save the rest of his stuff.

"Chill out. I wanted to see what Gil could do. I'll buy you more or give you all my old gear which is totally better than any of this crap. It's not like I'll be needing it now. Good thing we are the same size", Alfred sighed, much to Matthew's ire looking totally put out by the interruption. Proving himself the more intelligent of the two, Gilbert took the opportunity to press himself low to the ground and move silently away from the bickering twins, like the shark he was.

"Can you two go back to killing each other? I think I'm fine with it now.", Matthew groaned, picking up a destroyed snowshoe.

"That was mean. We're bonding.", Alfred rolled his eyes, "Did you know that sirens and merpeople are real and eat people? Oh, nagas are too apparently. There's one living in England in the White Cliffs of Dover. How cool is that?"

"Riveting. Why is there a piece missing out my kitchen counter?", Matthew glared at Alfred. He took note that the other main culprit was missing, Gilbert having already slinked out of the room a long time ago. Matthew had a pretty solid suspicion he would be able to find the shark man hiding under the bed with all his stolen sweaters.

"Oh, that? We got bored."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the USUK part I warned you about

APH UsUk Beyond the Sea

Alfred found the entrance to the naga's cave after wasting an entire morning of trial by error. All of Gilbert's instructions were from his sea bound perspective which in Alfred's current opinion sucked ass.

"Stupid shark.", Alfred grumbled as he wandered further into the dark. He had found the series of caves hidden deep within the White Cliffs of Dover all right. What Gilbert had forgotten to mention to Alfred was that all the corridors made up an seemingly endless maze that circled in upon itself like an enigma wrapped up in freshly baked monkey bread. After finally finding an entrance that wasn't underwater or was only accessible by clinging to sheer rock face, Alfred had just strolled right. Within an half hour of doing that though, he realized he was beyond lost.

"Well….", Alfred admitted to himself, "….shit.". He looked around at his current location which looked like every other place he had been at. Halls made of fine white chalk lay before and behind him, the only source of light coming from Alfred's pocketsize ultra LED flashlight that was waterproof and near indestructible. A hero was always prepared and Alfred's WWII brown leather aviator jacket had more than just a sense of vintage style to it. Alfred's favorite article of clothing had pockets in its pockets and all of them were filled with something useful(at least to him). The sharp beam of concentrated light made the halls glow almost ethereally strange, glinting and shimmering in places from hidden streaks of black flint and sparkling quartz.

For the most part, Alfred wasn't too concerned about his predicament. He hadn't been a survival specialist in the Marines for nothing, which was a good thing considering that his sense of personal direction was compete and utter shit. Half the time he had gotten lost in the field, stranded in Devil's ball sack end of the world, was because of his own internal compass that always seemed to be pointing permanently in the direction of wrong. Top that off with his inability to ever pack a decent map or follow GPS directions properly and you had yourself one hopelessly lost hot mess. Alfred would have been court marshaled years ago if not for his other talents and near unbelievable dumb luck. As bad as Alfred's sense of directions was though, his strokes of good fortune and serendipity ran just as deep and wide. It was probably one of the few reasons that he was still alive.

His last mission, his last job ever for the part of military that had no name and whose movements were secrets within secrets, were proof enough of this. It had been bad enough that Alfred had pulled every favor he was owed and then some, blackmailed the few he couldn't bribe, and threatened the rest just to get out while he was still whole physically and mentally.

Having no real home to return to and an abundance of free time to kill, Alfred had gone to his twin's barren island off the coast of Nova Scotia to clear some head space and convince himself that he was still human. Matthew's home was basically a rock that someone had decided to stick a lighthouse on. Alfred thought it was ugly as sin but for some reason his quiet twin loved it there. Alfred figured it was a Canadian thing.

Not wanting to admit it even to himself, Alfred just wanted quiet but with some sort of human company within ear reach. No one he knew fitting that sort of description better than Matthew, plus he had been meaning to visit his twin for a while now. Alfred had planned on spending a long period of time there, shamelessly sleeping in every morning, mooching pancakes and maple syrup off of Matthew, and seeing if he could get his isolated brother laid in his spare time.

To his utter shock and amazement upon arriving at Sambro island, Alfred found the most unlikeliest of creatures in his brother's bathroom sitting in a bubble bath of all things, acting as if it were the most normal thing in the world to do so. The two had stared at each other for a long tense moment, two predators sizing each other up and waiting on razor edged patience for the other to make the first move. When the red eyed man with a shark's tail where legs should have been hissed softly through its teeth that looked ungodly sharp and jagged at him, Alfred had moved. By the time his gun was drawn though, the thing in the bathtub had moved slick and fast as a greased eel out of the tub to swipe at Alfred with its tail in an attempt to knock him over onto the floor.

The former soldier yelled out in surprise at the swift attack but jumped over the swung appendage to tuck, dive and roll to the other side of the bathroom. Alfred was up on his feet in an instant with his gun trained at the thing's head. The only thing keeping the former covert ops specialist from blowing the monster's head off right there and then was the fact he had found it in Matthew's bathroom. His twin could flake out from time to time, staring off into space for longer periods of time than Alfred considered healthy, but he was positive that Matthew would have noticed something as strange as this shark man thing using his facilities.

"Where's Mattie?", Alfred growled out instead, wondering if the thing on the floor could even understand English. Whether or not the creature knew what a gun was and its deadly potential, it definitely sensed it was a weapon of some sort so it stayed where it was on the floor though its jaw clicked out of place and extended much like a snake's own to reveal rows upon rows of dagger like teeth, sloping and serrated. The main and most prominent set overshadowed and hid three more rows of teeth that folded back out of sight until the shark man's jaw was dropped out of its socket in the event of a threat or extreme rapid feeding. The view of all those sharp edges fitting inside a space so neatly made Alfred feel a bit queasy.

The monster clicked and squealed something gratingly high pitched and harsh enough that it made Alfred wince from the onslaught. It was enough to definitely make him reconsider not shooting it, questions and Matthew's poor choice in house guests be damned. Speaking of the devil or at least thinking about him had made Matthew appear, quickly putting himself between the two, much to Alfred's disbelief and ire.

In the short course of an afternoon, guns were bitten in half, man junk was put on full display, pancakes were eaten, and all was put right in the world again. When Matthew went to finish up whatever a lighthouse keeper did….Alfred still had no idea what that was after all these years. Matthew had tried to explain it more than once to him but Alfred had stop paying attention after weather was mentioned more than once in the span of a sentence…Alfred had many of his questions answered by the shark man whose name turned out to be Gilbert of all things and who was actually quite talkative. He answered all of Alfred's questions and then some as the pair worked their way through a series of various items that Alfred wanted Gilbert to bite in half, just to see it he could.

It was probably one of the most interesting conversations that Alfred had ever had in his life. Gilbert told him about all sorts of creatures that existed in the world, hidden and hiding from human perceptions, existing only the fridges of reality and in half forgotten stories. Sirens still sang sailors to their doom, though it was to K$sha now instead of ancient ballads. Merpeople tortured deep sea divers and treasure hunters alike by moving recently discovered ship wrecks and their lost fortunes about. Turtlemen road the currents from one sea to another, saving the occasional surfer who dared to ride the waves with them. A trio sea witches still lived in the Black Sea off the coast of Russia and Ukraine, claiming that area as their territory and cursing all who entered it unless a deal was willing to be made.

Most fascinating of all though, at least to Alfred, was the matter of a naga who lived inside the White Cliffs of Dover and had done so for centuries. Gilbert had known the naga in real life when he was still human and a pirate. The ruthless sea captain had had the misfortune of tangling with a certain French siren. Words and quite a bit of weaponry had passed between the two before a curse or two had gone awry and the once formidable pirate found himself with a long emerald green tail and a forked tongue. After the spiteful siren refused to lift the curse, the once great and powerful pirate king hid himself away from the world in his homeland, deep in the caves of chalk away from prying eyes and gaping jaws. His only visitor and real contact with the outside world for centuries had been Gilbert who didn't care either way if the human turned naga had a tail or not, having one of his own. Gilbert's visits were always welcome but over time, the naga seemed to prefer isolation more and more, to the point it was beginning to worry the shark man.

When Gilbert had voiced his concern about his reclusive friend, Alfred offered to take a message to him without even really thinking about it. He did not know why he had done so, so willingly without thinking it though, other than out of his own personal selfishness. Alfred needed somewhere to go and something to do, and England was as good a place as any for him to forget the last few years of his life, the choices he made, and a few of the ones that had been made for him. He could lose himself in some travel and maybe even forget a little about the evil that men can do and the lengths he had gone to stop it.

Or at least, that was what he told himself …

Alfred sighed at the dark, flicking out his knife from its hiding place to carve his current direction and time into the soft chalk walls. If he was going to be lost, he wanted to see new things he didn't recognize instead of the same crap over and over again going around in circles. With any luck, the creature he had come here to see would find him and save him from the boredom that was threatening to over well Alfred. Bad things tended to happen to other people when he got bored and he didn't think England would appreciate him defacing their coastline. Alfred was sure he had enough plastic explosive somewhere in his jacket to make a noticeable hole.

The caves had seemed exciting at first. It had thrilled a part of Alfred to think he was one of the few that had ever walked through them, but he hadn't come to England to sightsee. He'd traveled many a mile to deliver a message and maybe experience a little magic of his own. It was almost universally unfair that Matthew had discovered a race of fish people and on top of everything, not told Alfred about it. When mention of the naga had come up, Alfred had jumped at the chance, especially considering all the other options sounded like they ate humans for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Walking into dead ends and backtracking had lost its appeal hours ago though, Alfred making sure to update all his wall carving whenever he passed them. He had a week's worth of dry rations and a pocket sized water filtration system hidden in the many recesses of his bomber jacket, so Alfred wasn't too concern at the moment about those mundane issues. He just wished he had thought to bring one of his gaming devices. All the white on white was beginning to get to him and the silence was driving him to hum all the songs he knew.

Just as Alfred was about make Dover just a little bit more interesting i.e. more full of holes, he came upon a cavern of sorts. Within the high hollow, the chalk formed a sort of low circular table with a reasonable flat surface. It even had some raised spaces around it that could be comfortable used for seating. Even more important though, it had a pool of still water in it off to the side, the depression glittering as Alfred's flashlight set all the flint at its basin aflame. It turned out to be fresh though tasting heavily but not surprisingly of chalk.

Not looking a gift horse in the mouth, Alfred took a moment to rest, pulling out a thermos and a bag of peanut butter M&Ms. The thermos was quickly abandoned though when Alfred discovered it was full of strong black tea.

"Damn English.", Alfred grumbled, setting the offending drink off to the side. He was positive that he told the innkeeper to fill it with coffee. With a sigh, Alfred fished out a warm can of Red Bull for his caffeine fix to have with his sugar. He totally forgot about the thermos until it was time for him to get moving again.

Collecting his trash to put one of his many pocket, Alfred looked around for the thermos with thoughts of dumping out the tea to refill it with water. It was nowhere to be found though and Alfred could have sworn he had set it down beside him. While swishing his flashlight around, the little hairs on the back of his neck started to prick up on end as Alfred's survival instinct dropkicked his lobe. Something had been nagging him for a while now, but he had ignored it, chalking it up to being in the dark for too long. Alfred would have cursed at himself for getting careless but part of him still didn't believe that he was actually looking for a monster.

"Hello? I know you're here. As nasty as tea is, it doesn't just get up and walk off on its own.", Alfred called out, keeping his voice calm and even as he addressed the pressing dark. He wasn't afraid having been in far worse situations with less at his disposal. Alfred just didn't want to get over excited and screw everything up with his knack for over exuberance. His ears strained to hear anything besides his own light breathing and heartbeat. Alfred stilled both the best he could to catch the briefest hints of whispering movement, like the hush of silk gliding against cool marble.

"I know you're here because Gilbert said you would be, so you might as well come on out and talk to me…", Alfred decided to lay out all of his cards, throwing down his killing ace to win the pot. He didn't want to be perceived as a threat by his quarry or lose this chance. "…Arthur Kirkland.".

There was an instant reaction to the name, a near soundless gasp caught between a hiss followed by the sounds of something moving swiftly in the pitch black.

Close.

Closer than Alfred had previously thought. He kept his gaze locked steadily ahead of him and resisted the urge to turn his flashlight's beam toward the noise before it stilled down to nothing again. The ensuing silence that took its place was almost overwhelming in the sheer quality of its purity.

"Who are you? How do you know my name?", said a voice made for this dark, this kind of quiet. It was like tinted glass, a smoky baritone with a lingering hiss wrapped seductively around every English accented word. It made Alfred shiver though not in fear. That voice produced a wave of lust that penetrated Alfred so deep it was making him weak in the knees under the verbal onslaught. He would promise just about anything to that voice if only it kept talking to him.

It was so close to him, he could feel light breath caressing the back of his neck and the sensation of movement from a forked tongue tasting his scent. Alfred was certain if he reached behind him, he would be able to touch his sudden company though he could feel no heat coming off of the figure at his back. Alfred reasoned that only had to be natural considering that reptiles were cold blooded.

"I told you. Gilbert sent me. Have message, will travel.", Alfred chuckled. His humor seemed to throw his company off, the creature jerking back and away at the bright noise of his laughter. Always one to press his luck, Alfred continued, "Don't you want to hear it, Arthur?".

Another gasp and more silken movement that rasped softly against the chalk followed, making Alfred grin all the wider. Either it bothered the being to hear its name spoken aloud or it simply wasn't used to hearing it address at him. Alfred wondered which it was.

"How very rude!", the voice grated out, all prickly and roughened with anger. Alfred could now recognize the almost sensual sound of scales moving over chalk, all so very new to him but was quickly making itself unforgettable. His fingers itched to turn the light toward the source but some sort of intuition told him that this would all be over if he tried that. "You do not have my permission to address me so casually!"

"I'm sorry. I'm not used to talking to air. Aren't you supposed to be polite to company?", Alfred pointed out.

"Company is invited. As far as I am concerned, you are an intruder and shall be dealt with like one. You still have not answered my original question. Who are you?", the voice said sulkily. Alfred gave himself a mental point of victory.

"I am Alfred F. Jones. Please to meet cha, Kirkland.", Alfred grinned at the dark. It grunted back at him, obviously unimpressed.

"So that fool of a shark sent you here with a message? Why did he not come himself?", the naga growled. Alfred could hear its tail flicking about in what he could only assume was annoyance.

"Cause he's busy in Canada screwing my brother or at least I think so. I never did get to find out the specifics. Mattie was being a total prude about it.", Alfred told the dark unhelpfully.

Will you decease being so obtuse and just relay the message you were given to me?", Arthur said, the naga's tone definitely sounding irked and tight all around the edges. Alfred couldn't help thinking that he still sounded eloquent, the American hanging on every word uttered.

"Nope. Not until you come talk to me face to face. None of this in the dark shit.", Alfred said, willing to make deals with devils if it meant the naga would continue making him orgasm with his words.

"You are so very vulgar. Why should I demean myself to such measures?", the creature huffed.

"Cause it's polite and I went hella out of my way to deliver this message.", Alfred mused. It wasn't like he had been doing anything to begin with and had even volunteered to do this, but the naga didn't know that.

"So deliver it already and be gone from the place.", Alfred could hear the snake man sigh. He felt he was wearing Arthur down so Alfred gave himself a mental point.

"Can't. I'm lost down here.", Alfred admitted freely with a shrug.

"Bloody hell! You have to be the one of the most idiotic men I have ever had the misfortune to encounter in over a century! You have basically been wandering around in the dark lost with a monster and no means of escape, rescue, or exit. And for what? To deliver a message.", the naga spat out in his anger, the sound of his coils tightening and twisting like the rustle of reeds.

"Yup."

"A message you are now refusing to convey.", Arthur said tightly.

"Yup."

"I should just leave you down here to rot. These corridors go on for miles. You would die of starvation before you ever saw the light of day again.", the naga threatened with a hiss.

"I might not though. I'm full of surprises.", Alfred laughed, the boom of it echoing off the sides of the cavern.

"I doubt it, you sodding moron.", snake man sighed, "Turn off that infernal light.".

"Why?", Alfred asked curiously. He wasn't exactly opposed to the idea. His glasses were a farce as well as a product made for him by military tech. They functioned as binoculars for long distance sharp shooting and could also pick up infrared and some other light spectrums, night vision being one of them. It was cheating but then Alfred had never played fair when it got down to brass tacks.

"So that I may lead you out. The torch is hurting my eyes.", the naga snapped, clearly growing impatient so Alfred turned off the light without hesitation.

"You actually turned it out.", the snake man's voice sounded like it was caught between stunned awe and disbelief.

"Why wouldn't I? You said it bothered you.", Alfred shrugged as he let his eyes adjust to the dark and the florescent glow of green lines as the night vision kicked in.

"You do realize that you are alone in the dark with a monster now.", the naga said softly. He didn't sound threatening, merely thoughtful to Alfred. For some reason, it amused him to think that.

"I've been in worst places.", Alfred said, letting the dark truth behind the statement slip out despite the use of a carefully light tone. For whatever reason, it seemed to satisfy the creature behind him though, at least enough not to question him further.

"Very well then. I am going to take your hand. Please do not scream. I would prefer not to have a headache.", the naga warned, moving up beside him. Alfred resisted the urge to turn toward the snake man to get a clear view since he had to keep up the farce that he was totally blind and an idiot to boot. Night vision only gave one so much though. It was all just outlines in shades of bright acid shaded green.

"I'll try not to.", Alfred laughed, the noise rebounding off the walls. The ex soldier barely even twitched as a cool hand found his own, slipping into his much larger hand. Alfred allowed himself to look down at it. It was as slim and fine boned as it felt, the naga's skin smooth and surprising soft for being so dry. The long thin fingers of it ended with claws, the ends of which curved inwardly sharp like a cat's.

The pair stood in the dark holding hands for an amount of time that Alfred completely lost track of, studying the hand that held his own, so light but yet so steady.

"Y-you are completely unafraid of me.", the naga said hesitantly, like he couldn't believe his own words. "Your heartbeat and breathing have barely varied at all and even now, it is as steady as clockwork."

"Yup."

"Are you a fool or just an idiot?", the snake man asked, tugging at Alfred's hand as a signal to follow him. Alfred avoided looking at the naga straight on, keeping the strange being in the peripheral of his vision. By doing so, he only caught glimpses of bare slim shoulders that swayed from the snake's movement and a long serpent's tail that moved smoothly over the chalk, barely making a whisper in its wake.

"I've been called both by worse company.", Alfred replied good naturedly, "Personally, I like to call myself lucky and a complete stud.".

"I could eat you.", the naga suggested, the line of his shoulders tensing up.

"Tease.", Alfred leered, making the serpent choke on his own surprise and air. "Are you going to?"

"No.", the naga admitted in a sulky tone, its shoulders hunching in bit in discomfiture. "I was merely pointing out that I could."

"Duly noted then.", Alfred said easily, "But I could do the same to you. Humans aren't picky. We just pretend to be.".

"Yes. I remember.", the naga said quietly after a moment, taking back its hand. Alfred tried not to feel too disappointed about it. "Well, here we are then. Just take this passage all the way up and you will see daylight.".

"Cool beans! Thanks!", Alfred said over his shoulder as he started to walk away. It didn't sound like the naga was following him.

"Wait!", the snake man called after him, making Alfred pause.

"Miss me already?", Alfred teased, turning around to start walking backwards. He had just gotten a fantastic idea but he needed to leave this place first to execute it. Alfred was positive that Arthur would be able to catch him if given half of a fair chance to do so. Obtaining distance between himself and the naga was imperative for the first part of his plan. Also it gave Alfred an opportunity to look at the naga straight on even if it was only an outline of the creature.

"No. My message, you dippy twit.", Arthur scowled back at him. Alfred kept himself walking though he wanted to stop in his tracks. He had somewhat known what to expect, the creature of legend a mixture of man and snake. Alfred just hadn't expected it to be so beautiful. The naga was a smooth combination of a man's upper torso merging into the base of a serpent's tail, the transition from skin to scales happening around the flare of arched hipbones. The naga sat back on its tail and coils with its arms crossed over its lithe chest, its head tilted to the side in consideration. Alfred cursed the night vision for not being able to deliver more detail to him, making out the outline of messy looking hair, large eyes, larger eyebrows, and a sharp chin.

"Oh that? I'll give it to you tomorrow if you are polite!", Alfred laughed, quickly turning on his heel so that he could put hell to leather.

"Y-you! You scoundrel!", he could hear the naga scream after him.

Knowing he would be back soon enough, Alfred laughed long and loud as he made his escape and ran off, feeling excited about life and all of it surprises for the first time in a very long time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tea cosy (American English: tea cozy) is a cover for a teapot, traditionally made of cloth. It insulates a teapot, keeping the contents warm. They may have padded inserts that can be removed and washed.
> 
> Tea cosies may be in matching sets with items such as tablecloths, oven gloves, or aprons. Cloth tea-cosies may be embroidered, perhaps to complement a fine set of china. Some have been made with hidden pockets to be filled with fragrant herbs or flowers, similar to a potpourri.
> 
> Some tea cosies are hand-knitted, resembling woollen hats, even featuring a bobble on top.

rmed with a cheerful attitude and a newly bought steaming thermos of tea(he had never gotten his other one back from Arthur), Alfred reentered the labyrinth the next day. He found the dining room(what he called the cavern where he had met the naga with the naturally formed table and chairs) easily enough by way of all his wall carvings. This time though Alfred took careful note of how to get out on his own, making adjustments to his directions as he saw fit. For what he had in mind today, Alfred doubted that the snake man would be feeling so magnanimous toward him again.

Settling himself down on one of the chalk chairs, Alfred set out the thermos on the other side of the stone table and turned off his flashlight. To his inner delight, he didn't have to wait long.

"You came back.", the naga's voice sounded saturated in disbelief and strained awe. Alfred noted that the snake man's position was coming from behind him again. It was slightly disconcerting for him but very fitting for a predator. Alfred could appreciate the skill and thought behind the naga's planning, to see if Alfred was a threat to him or not. Alfred wondered if the naga had been with him this entire time, following the former soldier without him even realizing it. For some reason, that idea really turned Alfred on, shivers running up and down his spine in a very pleasant manner.

"I still have to deliver your message.", Alfred said easily, somehow managing to reign himself in as he stared off into the pitch black ahead of him. His eyes adjusted to the night vision as it kicked in full force, outlining his surroundings in acidy florescent green. His time and return to the dark had been well spent, Alfred familiarizing himself with all the natural sounds of the caves and caverns. Unlike before, he could now make out the flow of scales over the soft chalk, satiny soft and effortlessly smooth sounding. Alfred made himself not react as the naga came into view, moving toward the tea while casting furtive looks back and forth between it and Alfred.

"One can only hope that you have come to your senses then about delivering it promptly.", the snake man said in a dry tone, his fingers dancing midair toward the tea. Alfred bit his lip to keep from snickering and giving himself away.

"Nope. You've heard my terms.", Alfred stated firmly, crossing his arms over his chest with a grin. The statement and movement made Arthur look up at him. Alfred didn't need the night vision to be well aware of the glare that was being aimed at his head.

"Yes, because I would love to be gawked at by the likes of you.", the creature grumbled, losing the glare to consider the tea again.

"Why would there be gawking? I might admire you or molest you. The later really depends if you let me touch your scales or not.", Alfred mused aloud. He didn't hear the naga move, the snake's form a bright blur of movement to fast to follow. Alfred was completely unprepared for the strike to his body that carried him all the way through the air and over to the wall, a clawed hand gripping tight at his throat. It was only due to his military experience and extensive that the back of his head didn't bounce off the stone, the soldier holding himself up by the naga's wrist to keep braced and breathing. An unfortunate side effect from all this was that the attack sent his glasses flying. For the first time here, Alfred was truly in the dark.

"I will certainly not endure being mocked by a fool." was hissed into Alfred's ear, the light flicking of a forked tongue hitting his lobe. In an attempt to overpower the naga and free his throat, Alfred tried to push himself off the wall by pushing off the wall with his feet. In instant response, long coils of pure muscle wrapped around his legs tightly to the point of real pain that would have made Alfred cry out if not for the clawed hand crushing the breath out of him. Needle like claws dug in under his skin making it slick with fresh blood. Although every instinct was telling him now was the time to go for his knife and really fight back, Alfred made himself relax into the hold. He ignore the pain and focused solely at reasoning with the naga.

"Would Gilbert send someone like that to you?", Alfred managed to rasp out. To the relief of his burning lungs and sore throat, the effect was immediate. As sudden as the attack was implemented, it ended just as quickly. Alfred found himself released in a flurry of retreating coils to gasp and hack at air as it rushed in to meet his deprived lungs. Alfred lay on his back on the chalk and savored the taste of sweet air.

"No…No, he would not. Gilbert may be a lot of things but he has never been unkind to me.", Arthur said quietly from somewhere in the dark. Alfred coughed dryly in answer, tasting his own blood. He could already feel a necklace of bruises forming around his neck, making his throat feel painfully raw. Confident that Arthur was not going to attack him, Alfred let himself just lay there for a moment and took note of all his injuries. Other than his throat and some bruising on his legs, Alfred was ready to go another round. He found that acting more injured than he actually was had an unexpected but desired effect.

"I apologize for lashing out at you over something so trifling. I have just proven myself to be the monster I really am and after you have been so accommodating with the torch and such.", the naga murmured. It sounded like the snake man was moving toward him again. Alfred lay still as something was placed on his face over the bridge of his nose to rest behind his ears. Alfred looked through his glasses to find the naga staring down at him, the creature dry washing his hands together so that his claw clinked out a nervous staccato. "Please tell me my message and never return to this place again.".

"Nope.", Alfred wheezed through his ruined throat, ending his continuing defiance with a dry, pain filled cough. When the naga slithered off, he thought that the creature was leaving him. To Alfred's surprise, the snake man soon returned with the thermos in hand, pressing it into Alfred's hand. The soldier gulped down the contents gratefully even as he cringed from the taste.

"Bloody hell, why not? Are you trying to kill to get yourself killed?", the naga sighed down at him. The outline of its form slumped wearily from shoulders to tail tips.

"It would be a very unique way to die. How many people can claim that?", Alfred murmured, licking tea off of his lips with disgust. "Do you want the rest of this? I brought it for you. You seemed to enjoy the last one.". He offered the thermos up into the darkness, waiting patiently for the naga to take it.

"You are so strange. Even now, you are not frightened of me.", the snake man sounded miffed as he accepted the drink, discomfort shading his every word and movement.

"Why should I be afraid of you?", Alfred asked, keeping his tone more sincere than curious. Curious questions tended to get him into trouble.

"I just tried to kill you, git!", the naga snapped, crossing his deceptively slender arms over his chest to hug himself and cradle the tea close to his heart.

"Anyone can kill given enough motivation and personal effort on their part.", Alfred shrugged, not bothering to get off the floor just yet, partially because he liked how the naga peered down at him.

"You are well acquainted with death then I assume.", the naga said, making it more of a statement than a question.

"Yeah, you could say that. Seen more than my fair share it.", Alfred answered carefully with a nod.

"I take it you have seen monsters then. Ones that wear human skins.", the snake man dropped his voice even lower so that is was all accented gravel and shadow. Alfred let it rumble through him with pleasure.

"Yup. Seen those too.", Alfred smile though the expression was more pained than pleasant.

"I do not suppose you will just tell me my message, and be done and dusted.", the naga sighed as he let the subject matter drop, something that Alfred was grateful for. The snake man toying with the thermos before taking a tentative sip from it.

"Not a chance in hell.", Alfred beamed feeling ornery, more so than usual.

"You smile too much.", the snake man complained, clicking his tongue at what was left of the tea. "I don't suppose you have any milk and sugar with you."

"Nope. Fresh out. Why?", Alfred smiled just because he could, folding his hands over his stomach.

"Oh bother. Never mind.", the naga sighed softly into the tea which was well past tepid now but still quite enjoyable to some.

Alfred waited until he was finished before talking again. "I'm coming back tomorrow.", he threatened with a promise as he got up off the ground to start dusting himself off. Alfred could just feel the chalk all over his skin, grimacing from it as it dried out his skin and made it feel gritty.

"I shall await your return then with bated breath.", the naga gritted out through his fanged teeth, his grip denting the thermos.

"Really?", Alfred asked hopefully, barely managing to keep his attention on his clothing instead of looking up.

"No.", the snake man said flatly. Alfred gave himself another moment to deflate, trying not to feel too disappointed by the naga's curt answer.

"You'll catch more flies with honey than that sour puss attitude.", Alfred laughed, liking how his voices sounded in the echo of the cavern. He observed it made the naga shift about uncomfortably.

"That is hardly proper motivation. Whatever am I going to do with flies?", Arthur snarked back.

"Someone's not going to get their message until they tone the sass down and perk the fuck up.", Alfred taunted as he found his flashlight, directing it toward the ground. "I'm going to turn my flashlight on.".

He needn't have bothered with the warning. The nage was already retreating, stolen thermos still in hand.

"What? No kiss?", Alfred called after him, ignoring the hurt it caused in his vocal cords.

"See yourself out, twat."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO  
Alfred got up early the next morning and with a little aid from the innkeeper and his wife assembled the extensive contents of his backpack and accompanying hamper. Luckily for him, they didn't ask too many question, seemingly amused by the American who spent his days out on the cliffs. Alfred was thankful for their discretion. He had gotten some funny looks about all the scratches and bruises that covered his throat but Alfred had only waggled his eyebrows suggestively in answer whenever he caught someone looking at them. Alfred had learned a long time ago that some of the best lies had no words to define them.

Pleased with his progress with the tunnels and his ability to find his way back easily now, Alfred arrived at the dining room cave with all his equipment in tow. With any luck, Arthur wouldn't expect him here this early and give him enough time to set up his surprise.

It took a little longer than Alfred expected but he felt all his efforts were worth it when he was done, the tall blonde bathed in the glow of candlelight provided by a small army of candles. A borrowed sheet was thrown over the makeshift table and cushions were put on the seats. Silverware, porcelain plates, and painted teacups were set out and arranged in the way the innkeeper's wife had shown him early to do. A kettle was put on a camping burner to boil, the pot filled with bottled water. Alfred wasn't about to mess with the chalky liquid found in the caves, fresh or not. Sugar and milk were freed from their containers as well and set out near what Alfred deemed to be the naga's seat if he decided to show.

Cookies(though the English called them biscuits for some reason)were set out, a little broken from the journey but still perfectly edible. Tiny sandwiches with the crusts cut off of them and filled with cucumber, egg salad, and some sort of meat paste were soggy around the edges but Alfred didn't plan on eating them. Scones, clotted cream, and strawberry jam were set out as well. Alfred definitely planned on eating those, having developed a new love for the English baked good. He finished the array with some tomato basil soup, still hot from a newly bought thermos, his third one for this trip. It was a new personal record for him.

"What do you think you are doing?", said a familiar voice coming from a nook of shadow on the other side of the room.

"You're English. Figure it out.", Alfred snickered, pouring the boiling water into the teapot to seep before he took a seat at the table.

"Well as an Englishman, I can tell you that you are missing a cozy for the pot.", the naga pointed out from his hiding place.

"I have no idea what you are talking about.", Alfred shrugged. The teapot looked perfectly fine to him. He didn't understand why it needed to be cozy.

"Spoken like a American.", the snake man sniffed dryly in obvious contempt at Alfred's failings as a man but also a maker of tea.

"I'm going to take that as a compliment.", Alfred grinned as irritated sounding snorts came from the shadow, "Well damn, I didn't bring one. We'll just have to make due and drink the leaf juice quick."

"We?", the naga noted the word, saying it slowly.

"Yeah. We. You're crazy if you think I'm going to drink that shit all by myself.", Alfred said, waving the naga over from the shadows. He could only just make out a vague outline moving in the curtain of shadow and catch a glimpse every now and then of scales that curved into the light by accident as they constantly recoiled from the naga's anxious state of mind.

"If you are always this vulgar, I can see why you drink alone.", the snake man said, clearly stalling. Alfred let him for the time being, enjoying their conversation and listening to the naga's voice.

"Weren't you a pirate?", Alfred pointed out, silently thanking Gilbert for that tidbit of information as he watched the snake man's posture stiffen with indignation.

"I reformed centuries ago. I am a gentleman, sir.", the naga answered with weighty dignity.

Alfred whistled low, feigning admiration. "Damn, they'll let just about anyone in that club now.", Alfred chuckled, enjoying how the tip of the naga's tail would twitch occasionally with annoyance. "Standards must have dropped cause a gentleman would never keep a guest waiting like this."

"We have already established that you are not a guest. Intruder would be far more accurate.", Arthur griped but it sounded like his resolve was already dying a slow death.

"Tomato, tomahto. Quit stalling. The soup is getting cold and I'm sure I'll fuck up the tea if you don't come over here and save it in time. You know since I am such a complete bastard forgetting about a cozy and all.", Alfred went in for the kill, his impatience finally getting the better of him.

"Is there milk and sugar?", the naga asked hesitantly, trying to sound indifferent and failing miserably at it.

"Yes."

"Sodding hell!", the snake man's resolution audibly cracked. Alfred bit the inside of his cheek to keep a straight face. "Fine. So be it. Do not blame me when you take a fright."

"Take a fright? Seriously who talks like that?", Alfred let himself laugh this time but only to hide his anticipation. Leaving his safety blanket of shadow behind him, the naga came into clear view under the warm glow of candlelight and Alfred suddenly forgot how to breath.

Obviously tense, snake man moved silently, smoothly on coils of emerald green scales that the flames set gold fire too. From head to tail tip, the naga's length was well over twice as long as Alfred was tall, the creature swaying from its movement. An adder's pattern decorated the tail with darker against bright emerald that started from the small of the snake man's back. It was elegant and in a way reminded Alfred of the patterns found in Celtic knots, endlessly curving in upon itself it spirals and loops.

The human part of the naga was pale, the skin of it almost unnaturally so. Whether it was normal or not, the creature's flesh was milky white without any blemishes or freckles upon it. The snake man's hair was short and spiky, looking trimmed by knife blade. It was pale gold mess of permanent bed head and it sparkled almost like a halo around the naga's head.

Of all things to consider though, Alfred had not expected the former pirate turned naga to be so…..

…so damn pretty.

Handsome was too brusque a word to describe him and gorgeous just sounded too girly to Alfred. All the naga's features were fine boned and delicate from his arched lips to his cut cheekbones, from the curve of his pointed jaw line to graceful brow. The only thing marring the total perfection of this visage was the snake man's eyebrows, which were possibly the thickest pair that Alfred had ever seen in his life. To their merit though, the face caterpillars drew attention to the naga's eyes which more than made up for them. The large orbs were green, almost obscenely so, shards of every shade from that singular color spectrum blended together to make liquid jewels for eyes. They were accented by full golden lashes, long enough that they brushed the naga's pale cheeks.

When Alfred finally allowed his gaze to leave off the snake man's face, his eyes trailed down the creature's bare compact torso lingering over the small nipple upon it, the nubs pale pink as if in blush and the muscles there all sinewy lean. With the exception of his head, Alfred noted that the rest of the naga was completely hairless with no curls upon his chest or even a happy trail leading downward. A lithe waist merged seamlessly into scales around the flare of cut hipbones, the likes of which made Alfred want to run his tongue over the curved ridges to feel the change in texture between the conflicting skins.

A small nervous sound made on the naga's part forced Alfred to leave of his shameless study and look up. It was only then he noticed that the snake man had his fingers jammed in his ears and his body braced for something to happen.

"Are you alright?", Alfred asked pointing to the naga's ears who removed his fingers hesitantly with a sheepish look on his face.

"Oh sorry. I was worried you were going to scream or make a fuss. Either gives me a dreadful headache.", Arthur said quietly, braiding his fingers together in nervous fidgets.

"No. No screaming.", Alfred licked his lips, suddenly finding his mouth way to dry to function properly. When had that happened? "You get that often?". Alfred realized that sentence was as dumb as it sounded when the naga shot him a nasty look. Ignoring it to make amends, Alfred pressed forward to round the table to extend his hand to the creature. The naga drew back from it, staring down at the offered appendage like he had never seen a hand before.

"Alfred F. Jones. It's nice to finally put a face to the voice.", Alfred introduced, keeping his tone soft and inviting. He planned on holding out that hand until his arm fell off if he had to. The naga's eyes flew from the open palm to Alfred's reassuring smile and back again in rapid succession, his coils echoing his discomfort with dry rasping noises. While he waited for the naga to make up his mind, Alfred watched him move, enjoying all the motions of snake man's body, every minuet movement seamlessly fluid and effortless on the creature's part.

The naga swallowed hard, his Adam's apple jumping and even that was beautiful. After a long moment of thought, Alfred found his offer accepted, a slender clawed hand taking his own to shake it.

"Arthur Kirkland, at your service."


	9. Chapter 9

"What in Maple do you mean you're moving to England!?"

Matthew took a moment to stare down at his phone is disbelief before placing it back to his ear to hear the rest of Alfred's impromptu life decision.

"….. and we really hit it off. So yeah, I'm hanging out here for a while.", Alfred, of course, had kept right on talking. Matthew didn't know why he bothered sometimes.

"Hit it off with who?", Matthew asked, glaring up at the lighthouse's conical high ceiling. He needed to dust up there again, the lighthouse keeper noticed, sighing.

"Mattie! Are you even listening to me?", Alfred whined with all the impressive skill of a four year old.

"Alfred. Slow down and tell me what is going on, eh.", Matthew slid his fingers underneath his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose, a headache threatening to arise.

"Ok, you know that naga Gilbert told us about, his drinking buddy that lived the cliffs. Well, he was…is real and he's totally hot.", Alfred stated cheerfully, causing his twin's shoulders to slump an ocean away.

"Al, I think it's safe to assume when a shark man tells you about the existence of a naga, that it's going to be real.", Matthew sighed, glancing over at his own supernatural creature. Gilbert was currently sleeping in a patch of sunlight, dressed in another one of Matthew's sweaters and nothing much else, which was fine for the moment since his legs and everything else that lay between them were currently in the form of a long tiger shark's tail. Apparently it didn't bother Gilbert to have it out on dry land, as long as he returned the ocean once month for the three nights of the full moon and took the occasional sea salt bath in the tub.

Matthew smiled despite his current source of irritation, the shark man looking adorable all curled up tight, the sunlight making his messy white hair shine like a halo sterling silver and his metallic stripes shimmer.

"I know, but he never mentioned how cute Arthur would be.", Alfred laughed. "And you know me. I just had to see it for myself.".

"Yes, I guess you did, didn't you?", Matthew said wearily, Alfred's insatiable curiosity a blessing and a curse, for them both really. Matthew could remember quite a few times where he had gotten dragged into childhood adventures that hadn't ended too well for either of them and had resulted in quite a bit of grounding. "So, let me get this straight, you're staying in England because Arthur turned out to be cute?".

Matthew tried to envision how a half snake, half man could ever be considered appealing but considering he was in an odd relationship with the napping shark man in his living room, he didn't have a lot of room to comment or pass judgment.

"Bro, he is so much more than that! He's super smart and read books in different languages, and has been everywhere when he was a pirate!", Alfred was warming up to his subject, Matthew could tell, his twin's tone and sentence speed increasing rapidly. "Yeah, a pirate! How fucking cool is that!? He was a pirate king before he got all cursed and stuff! He's been living in these massive cliffs since it happened in this tunnel maze thing. I got lost for a couple of hours in it!". Only Alfred would happy about that, Matthew reflected to himself as his twin rambled on. "Oh, and he has a secret lair! How fucking cool is that!? It has all this historical junk in it, like swords and shit and he sleeps on a pile of gold coins! How pimp is that?!….".

"Al…."

"…..and he has all these book. You would shit yourself if you saw all of them. Just shelves and shelves of old books and scrolls, and he's read them all!….."

"Alfred."

"…..He been sneaking up at night on the new moon cause it's all dark as shit then, and steals stuff he needs like the occasional goat and tea, which by the way, is awful no matter how much sugar and milk you put into it…."

"ALFRED F. JONES!", Matthew finally resorted to yelling point blank into the phone, making Gilbert's head shoot up in alarm, his crimson eyes wide looking for the threat. Matthew waved him back down, mouthing 'Alfred' as he pointed to the phone. Gilbert cracked his jaw yawning wide to show off all of his impressive rows of razor sharp teeth before snapping them like a trap.

"Tell him he's an Arschloch.", Gilbert muttered sleeping as he curled up again. He was back to snoring in seconds.

"I heard that.", Alfred complained, "Damn dude, you're so damn quiet I forget that you have pair of lungs. I think you popped my eardrum. Not cool, bro.".

"It would serve you right. Answer my question.", Matthew stated solidly, knowing if you gave Alfred an inch in a conversation, he would steal a cross-country roadtrip.

There was a long pause of silence over the line, the length of which made Matthew think that Alfred had hung up on him. "Which was?", Alfred making Matthew jump in surprise with a squeak of 'maple'. The normal stoic light housekeeper fought with the inner urge to rant hardcore at his dippy twin. Sometimes it amazed and made Matthew wonder how the formerly employed secret service agent and decorated Marine with four tours of bloody, war torn duty under his young belt had survived his chosen professions.

"England, Al. You are staying in England for Arthur? You just met him.", Matthew inner peace won out in end, allowing the question to be spoken in a calm, rational voice.

"I know it's crazy, right?", Alfred chuckled, his tone holding a fondness in it Matthew had only heard used to describe burgers and the love for his country. "But it just feels right, you know? I've always gone with my gut and it's kept me alive so far and right now it's telling that I should stay. I think I've found something special here. Really special and not just cause Artie's a naga.".

"As long as you're happy, Al. Just remember to keep in touch and come visit me every once in a while.", Matthew let out a little breath of air he hadn't know he had been holding.

"You're okay with it?", Alfred asked hesitantly. Matthew could already envision his twin's face right now. His smile would be still there but fragilely so. "You know I'm not leaving forever. You'll be alright, won't you?".

Matthew couldn't help but smile. Despite all his bravado and self hype, Alfred had a caring, loving heart. Even now his twin was worried about him being alone on his little island, in his own little world of providing guiding light in a constant war with the night and a vindictive sea. He was far away from the world at large, a lone soul on an island of surf battered rock. Matthew knew if he asked Alfred not to move to England that he would be back in the States the next flight available. He wouldn't be happy about it but Alfred put Matthew before himself, like he so selflessly did as brother and as a soldier with everything in his life.

Expect there was no need to, not now. Without even realizing that he had walked over, Matthew found himself standing beside Gilbert, the man kneeling down to card his fingers through messy silver hair. Even in sleep, the shark man leanrf into his touch, making odd grating noises of affection that probably sounded completely different underwater.

"Yeah, Al. I'm good.", Matthew hoped that Alfred could hear the warm smile in his voice. "I hope it works out for you and I get to meet Arthur one day. He must be amazing to hold your ADD attention span.".

"They never definitively proved I had that. All the Adderall was nice though.", Alfred laughed, the edges of it tinged with relief. "Thanks, Mattie.", he added softly.

"No problem."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> breakfast in bed  
> Prucan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this a while ago. I feel like such an asshat for forgetting about it

Matthew woke up to an empty bed, his cold side missing the other body that was usually pressed up flushed against it. That in itself was strange. Gilbert usually had to be bribed out of his cozy nest of covers and pillows with promises of pancakes before he deigned to even show a fin. For having never slept in a bed before, the shark man had taken to the concept quite well, nearly to the point of addiction it would seem. It was the most reliable place to find the shark man, usually buried under a fluffy mountain of his own making.

Which made Matthew wonder where the hell Gilbert had gotten himself off to. The lighthouse keeper strained his senses to their utmost limits in an attempt to locate his strange other without having to leave the warm comforts of the bed. Gilbert wasn’t the only one who loved to lounge in bed and Matthew rarely got the opportunity to do so anymore due to his duties to the lighthouse and now apparently, keeping an overly curious shark man out of trouble. 

Cracking an eye, Matthew confirmed that Gilbert was not in the bedroom and it didn’t sound like he was in the bathroom either which meant he had to out and about somewhere else in the kitchen or living room. Matthew was hoping for the later. There being far less breakable things in the living room and his kitchen counter was still sporting a jagged bite mark in it, thanks in part to his twin Alfred. 

Trying not to think about his lot in life or relatives that had the tendency to break his things, Matthew reasoned that he must of fallen back asleep because the next thing he knew, something heavy and wet was being placed in his lap. Needless to say, it woke his ass up real quick.

“Eh?”, Matthew groaned as he fumbled for his glasses from the relative safety of the nightstand. The sodden mess that now took up the majority of his lap resolved itself into a tray full to the point of spillage, each plate upon it having some sort of sea life still very much alive occupying the porcelain. It was accompanied by a shark man who was grinning like a madman with all his jagged teeth on display. If Matthew wasn’t so used to it, it would have been frightening, Gilbert‘s ‘I‘m awesome‘ face easily confused with his ‘You‘re not swimming fast enough, fish stick‘ face.

Admittedly it was a very colorful serving of sea life. Kelp was piled up high in a bowl, the dark green strands still dripping saltwater. Another bowl was filled to its brim with tiny crabs, a mixture of blue and bright red in color, all of which were trying to make their escape back to the sea via the comforter. One stopped to nibble off of Matthew’s toe before scurrying off. A large fish with beautiful silver scales appeared to be the main course. Unlike it’s marine brethren, it was very much dead. The belly of the fish sported a large familiar bite mark, neatly gutting it. An octopus glared back at Matthew from the tall glass it had been placed in, distain etched into all of its many appendages as it tried pulled itself out of the glass. Unsuccessful in its attempts for now, it amused itself by wrapping its tentacles around all the cutlery which was comprised up of three forks, many spoons of various shapes and function, and a whisk for some reason. 

In spite of all the wildlife chaos soaking into one of his better sheets, a cup of still steaming coffee sat neatly off to the side in a corner of the tray, smelling and looking oddly normal. Matthew arched a questioning eyebrow of suspicion at it. With his luck, it was probably made with saltwater. Gilbert tended to forget that human couldn’t drink straight from the ocean like he could.

“What is all this?”, Matthew asked carefully. Admittedly this was not his most ideal way of waking up, but Gilbert looked so proud of himself, Matthew couldn’t bring himself to get upset about the mess or the method to the madness. 

“I made you breakfast in bed.”, Gilbert said, “I saw it on the telly-o-vision.”. Which explained everything to Matthew who, once again, instantly regretted introducing the shark man to daytime programming. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Matthew’s job kept him busy and Gilbert could only be allotted so much time by himself before something bad happened to the lighthouse or the features within it. The walls were still recovering from the whole crayon incident. 

“Oh, thank you.”, Matthew smiled carefully, torn between laughing out loud and sighing. He didn’t want to hurt Gilbert’s feeling even as he felt the octopus slip off the tray and onto the bed with a moist splat of victory. “It’s very……very alive. Fresh. Yes, very fresh and moving. Mostly”. Matthew poked at the fish as if to confirm it was fully dead and wondered idly what kind it was. 

“I remembered you don’t like the guts in fish. I don’t know why. It’s the best part.”, Gilbert sounded miffed about such a notion. The strange ways of human still threw him for a loop sometime but Gilbert felt he was learning to adept quite well. He could even wear clothing now, though pants were still evil things that made his new leg skin crawl. The long sleeved green sweater was his latest acquisition from Matthew’s closet, though like the rest, its lifespan would be short-lived. Gilbert’s sandpaper like skin, though softer than an actual shark’s, still ruined fabric after extended wear. 

“I can see that…..”, Matthew trailed off, watching the shark man out of the corner of his eye. Gilbert looked as if he were waiting for something, his crimson gaze fixed and intent upon him. Matthew distracted himself from it by urging the octopus off the bed with the wired aid of the whisk. The octopus got in the last word on the matter by spraying ink on the floor, leaving a swear across the tile as it exited the room. Matthew really didn’t have it in his heart to blame it after suffering such an indignity. 

When Gilbert started to fidget, Matthew realized that the shark man was waiting for him to begin eating. Staring down at the tray in dismay, Matthew considered his options which were fewer now that the crabs and octopus had left. The dead fish stared morosely back up at him. Returning the look, Matthew doubted that he could stomach raw fish first thing in the morning and he wasn’t sure if the kelp was even edible for human consumption in its current state. That left the coffee that may or may not have been made with salt water because Gilbert tended to forget that humans could only consume fresh or to Matthew‘s knowledge, knew how to work the coffee maker.

Choosing the lesser evil of the three, Matthew tentatively sipped at the coffee. Much to his relief, he found it be very good and best of all, normal. Letting out a sigh of relief mingled with caffeine fulfillment joy, Matthew leaned back against the pillows, Gilbert resuming his usual spot at the lighthouse keeper’s side.

“We can share.”.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Comments and kudos are the fish sticks and custard for the soul.


End file.
